The Scars of Youth
by Xenith
Summary: Voldemort let Ron smash into the ceiling once more before he crumpled to the ground coughing up more blood.Voldemort left-slamming the door behind him.“You okay though?” Fred looked to his brother.He’s too young for this. We’re all too bloody youn
1. Chapter 1: The Unexpected Arrival

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
"THREE THINGS CANNOT BE HIDDEN---LOVE, SMOKE, AND A PILLAR OF FIRE. BUT HOW CAN ONE HIDE LOVE WHEN YOU ADMIT IT RIGHT OUT?" ~~~Fremen Wisdom~~~  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oy! Fred!" George called out from the Weasley's back garden. "Mum wants you to come in for dinner! NOW!" Fred ran to the next-door neighbours house from the edge of the woods. He had been gathering dormice to put in their letter box with a note reading:  
  
From Your Secret Admirer.   
P.S. Your presents are the furry things. Enjoy!  
  
Fred stuffed the mice into the letterbox and ran into the kitchen of his own home.   
  
"I saw what you did." George whispered to him when he had seated himself next to his brother. "They haven't even moved in yet. All you know is that they have a daughter; honestly, she could be seven years old for all you know."  
  
"George, when is that ever the point? I just want to see their faces when the mice are found." George just shook his head and finished up his sandwich.   
  
--  
  
The next morning a pair of moving vans and a large car filled with teenagers appeared at the neighbours and the, clearly Muggle, workers began to unload the furniture. Fred and George peeked over the garden wall hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl and her family.  
  
"That's no seven year old." Fred declared as a brunette around sixteen stepped out of the car first followed by the rest of her family. All boys.  
  
"I must agree." George replied. "I think she's going for the letterbox. . ."Fred and George ducked as the girl turned to the box.  
  
"What?!" they heard her laugh from that direction. "How'd you get in here?" There was a series of frantic squeaking from the mice as she took them from her letterbox and dumped them on the ground.  
  
Fred dared a look over the garden wall. The girl was reading over the note. She smiled to herself and continued to the house.   
  
"Well, that was disappointing." Fred pouted as he and George went into the house and up to their exceedingly messy room. Fred crawled under his bed and dug around for their potions equipment.  
  
"What's she doing?" George said from the window.  
  
"Huh?" Fred immerged from beneath his bed.  
  
"Look, she's put something into the letterbox."  
  
"What'd it look like?"  
  
"Brownish and in a clear bag."  
  
"Let's get it!"  
  
"Are you really that dense?" George grabbed his twin's arm and brought him back to the window. "They'll see us. We'll wait till it gets dark."  
  
"Humpgh." Fred grunted.  
  
"They look like Muggles, so you can't go giving her any of our _ creations _ . Got it?"  
  
"Since when are you the sensible one?" Fred shot back, raising one crimson eyebrow.  
  
"Since you turned into Ron."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Come on," George laughed. "Let's go get some lunch."   
  
--  
  
"Let's get it now." Fred said, jumping from his bed that night and yanking on his trainers.  
  
"Alright." George agreed sleepily. "But let's be quick about it." George got up and crept out of their room, not bothering with his shoes. Fred snuck out after him.   
  
"Shhh!" he hissed to his brother as they passed by Ginny's room.  
  
When they had finally gotten out of the house Fred ran over to the girl's letterbox. He pulled out the bag and a folded up piece of paper that said on the front:  
  
TO MY SECRET ADMIRER  
  
In messy scribbly letters. Fred opened the letter and read aloud:  
  
OH DEAR ADMIRER OF MINE,   
THANKS FOR THE MICE. THEY LEFT TINY LITTLE PRESENTS ALL OVER MY MAIL BOX. SO, HERE'S MY VERSION OF THE GIFT. HAVE FUN!  
  
-CHRiS-  
  
"Hold this." Fred handed the letter over to George. And he opened the bag. The moment he did so he regretted it.  
  
"What's that smell?" George said, pinching his nose.  
  
Fred reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of paper that read:  
  
DUNG.  
  
In the same messy handwriting.  
  
"It's animal droppings." Fred replied, holding the bag as far away from him as possible as he and George headed back over to their own home.  
  
"That's disgusting."  
  
"Yep." Fred dropped the bag and the scrap of paper into the wastebasket by the door before heading inside; he tucked the letter into his pocket.  
  
--  
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	2. Chapter 2: Of Dragons & Gellatin

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
" 'DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FRST SIGHT?'  
'YES. WITH ALL MY HEART.' "  
~~~eRIN  
  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
  
  
  
  
It was nearly noon when Fred and George finally woke up the next day.  
  
"Good," Mrs. Weasley greeted her twin sons as they entered the kitchen. "You're finally up. After you've done eating I want the two of you and Ron to bring this over to the new neighbours. I would myself, but I have to bring you're father's lunch to the Ministry."  
  
"Yes mum." They replied in unison as they sat down at the table. Mrs. Weasley set down a bowl of something green in front of her two sons.  
  
"Now, don't you forget about it." She warned.  
  
"What is it?" George asked, peering into the bowl.  
  
"It's a Muggle treat. Jellie-O, or something, I think."  
  
"Why does it wiggle like that?" Fred questioned as he shook the bowl.  
  
"I don't know, it just does. But I think our new neighbors are Muggles and I wanted to greet them with something they might like. But, I've got to be off! Don't forget about you're brother." And she disappeated.  
  
"Ron!" George bellowed up the stairs when they had finished eating.  
  
"What?" Ron said, coming down the stairs.  
  
"You have to come meet the new neighbours with us. It should only take a few minutes."  
  
"Fine." Ron groaned and he followed George, Fred, and the Jellie-O out of the house and next door.   
  
Just as Fred was about to knock on the door they heard a huge explosion from inside followed by a loud 'Damn it! Mat, what EXACTly was on the couch?' A male voice came in then. 'How am I supposed to know?' 'Well come clean it up.' 'I'm kind of busy right now Chris.' 'Fine!'  
  
Fred knocked on the door and a few moments later and the girl they'd seen the previous day had opened the door; covered in soot. Just through the dust coating her face he could see the shiny remnants of a three clawed scar that seemed to trace itself from her cheek down underneath her dark wine coloured tunic. Beneath the tunic she had on thickly woven baggy pants that ended round her bare feet. A pair of dark goggles adorned the top of her head causing her hair to stick out at odd angles.  
  
"Yes?" She greeted them impatiently when none of the Weasleys said anything. "What do you want?"  
  
  
"Um---" Fred began, startled at her strange appearance. "We're your new neighbours." He held out the bowl.  
  
"What's that?" She poked the Jellie-O with a dirty finger and it squirmed at her touch.  
  
"It's Jellie-O . . . or something."  
  
"Is that some kind of Muggle thing?"  
  
"So you're not a Muggle?" George said, surprised.  
  
"No." She laughed.  
  
"How'd you know we weren't Muggles?"  
  
"I saw---" She pointed to Ron.  
  
"Ron." Ron replied.  
  
"---Ron drop a tiny owl out the window the other day with a letter tied to its leg."  
  
"Oh."   
  
"Do you want to come in or something?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." Fred replied.  
  
"Can I go?" Ron complained. "I was kind of in the middle of something."  
  
"Leave." George said, following the girl inside. "What happened?" He asked as they passed through the living room and he noticed a smoldering piece of furniture surrounded by black soot marks.  
  
"Oh, the couch caught fire." She explained, taking the bowl away from Fred and into the kitchen. "Not sure exactly how it happened."  
  
"You set fire to the couch?" Fred asked not truly believing her.  
  
"No my git-of-a brother did. The prat got me covered in soot."  
  
"The biggest thing we ever blew up was an armchair." He hissed to George as the girl poked at the Jellie-O with a fork.   
  
"I'm Chris, by the way. Chris Jameson." She tipped the bowl over the sink and shook it roughly, biting her bottom lip as she did so.  
  
"Fred."  
  
"George." They introduced themselves.   
  
"You're Weasley's, right?"  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"The hair was a tip off. But I know your father and it was rumoured you lived in the area."  
  
"Chris, what's that short for?" Fred asked as the green Jellie-O slipped out of the bowl in one giant-jiggily piece.   
  
"Christopher. My dad wanted all boys." She turned to the twins---finally having given up on the Jellie-O---and said, "Come on then. Might as well show you the house."  
  
The first room they approached smelled strongly of fire and reptiles.   
  
"What the - ?" Fred began. "Oh, this is so illegal." He finished the glee evident in his impish face as he stopped in the doorway. Three of the walls were covered in cages and pens. Each pen held a small dragon.   
  
--  
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	3. Chapter 3: Unspeakable Origins

Xenith  
(Anything you recognise isn't mine, everything else is though. This should cover the entire story!)  
  
  
  
  
" 'NEVER MEDEL IN THE AFFAIRS OF DRAGONS, FOR YOU ARE CRUNCHY AND GOOD WITH KETCHUP.' " ~~~Unknown  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"No it's not."   
  
"Yes it is. Dragons were made illegal ages ago."  
  
"Do you think I'd be showing them to you if it were illegal? We work for the Ministry---my dad, and brothers, and I."  
  
"What department?"  
  
"Can't say."  
  
"Why? You're not---are you?"  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
"You're parents are Unspeakables?"  
  
"Well my dad is . . . sort of anyway."  
  
"So that's what that department does."  
  
"That's not all it does. We're just a semi-department for a sub-division for the department of Mysteries---or something."   
  
"Oh."  
  
"What exactly are they?" George asked, approaching the cage of an electric green.  
  
"They're hybrids." She explained, joining George.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"We interbreed species of small dragons to create these. It's kind of like Muggle genetic engineering." She explained, handing George the pot, then opened the cage and put her hand inside. She continued to speak as the neon dragon climbed onto her hand and scampered up her arm seating itself on her right shoulder; its tail curling around her scarred neck.  
  
"This is Orion." She picked up a small piece of the cooked meat and fed the creature. "Orion is a Pacific Blue. Not the most intelligent breed but loyal."  
  
There was another sharp whistle from the doorway behind them. The Blue took off from her shoulder.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Fred and George ducked as the dragon barely missed their heads.  
  
"He's smart." A strong male tenor said from the doorway.   
  
"I was talking about the breed."  
  
"What do you think you're doing, showing them?" Fred and George turned to see Chris's brother Mat. He was a handsome bloke of seventeen with a three clawed scar ripping down his left cheek, identical in every aspect to Chris's.  
  
"They're Weasleys."  
  
"So . . ."  
  
"You weren't listening in the car yesterday, were you?"  
  
"Doesn't matter if I was listening or not. They shouldn't be here."  
  
"I..am..to..take," She said in the tone of one speaking with a small child. "..Gemini..to..a..Mister..Arthur..Weasley. You know Arthur. We were at their family's and of the summer holiday party the year before last."  
  
"I know who Arthur Weasley is." Mat snapped back, before pulling a package of Dragon Keeper's Smokes ('Keeps _your_ lungs clean and fresh while working with your worm!') and igniting the end of one with his wand before pocketing the package. "You still shouldn't be doing this." He took a long drag off the cigarette and let out a stream of pale blue smoke before leaving the room.   
  
"Prat." Chris muttered to herself before giving the whistle again. A few moments later a completely black dragon went flying over their heads again, landing on Chris's outstretched hand, its tiny claws taking hold of her already scarred skin. It was much smaller than the green; about the size of a large parakeet. Its tiny pointed face glared at the two boys.  
  
George took an involuntary step back from the creature.  
  
"This is Feather. Feather is an Australian Black." She whistled again and Feather took off to a perch on the opposite side of the room.   
  
"I find Feather EXTREAMLY intelligent." She shouted out the door, continuing to feed each dragon in turn.  
  
"Shove-it Chris!" They heard Mat holler back down the hall.  
  
  
--  
  
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A/N: Please review! I haven't gotten that many and it's MUCH harder to write when think that no-one's reading. I'll try to read any of your stories if you REVIEW mine! :.) (If that sounds like a bribe it was meant to be one!) 


	4. Chapter 4: The Portkey

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
" 'LEARN TO LIVE A LITTLE, HONESTLY.' " ~~~Said by my friend Kimmy when speaking to her guy-friend, Corey, when he was terrified about learning to snowboard and starting on a high-level hill. She said this and then took off down the slope, leaving poor Corey to fend for himself on the ski lift.   
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
  
  
  
She had finished feeding the dragons, putting the snoozing yellow back in his cage, and whistling for Feather to come back to her.  
  
He landed on her left shoulder, carefully folded his wings, and continued to glare at the twins.  
  
Chris led the two boys up the a set of rickety, dust filled stairs and into another rugged dragon filled room.  
  
"The last room we were in held all of the hybrids that we're in the process of training. This room," she opened a door to her left. "This room holds all of the one's that are on order for Ministry members." The boys followed her into the room.  
  
On the inside the room was much like the previous one. There were cages and perches and toys, but a bed and a few other measly human things also occupied this room.   
  
"What's the bed for?" George asked, moving over to one of the cages and peering at the label on its door reading:  
  
  
NAME: Cherrybottom  
RECIPIANT: Cornelius Fudge  
DATE OF DEPARTURE: Next Tuesday  
  
  
"Someone usually sleeps in here most nights---keeps an eye on them." She answered moving over to one of the cages on the opposite side of the room. "Your dad would be at work now, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?" Fred asked.  
  
"Because," she paused as she unlatched the door to one of the cages; pulling the goggles down from her head and over her eyes. "His dragon is ready." She opened the door and ducked. Her hair ruffled as an invisible something flew past her head.   
  
"What?" was Fred and George's unified reply.   
  
"Dad's getting a dragon?" Fred's mouth was hanging open.  
  
"What is it?" George asked as Chris put out her arm.  
  
"It's a Japanese Chameleon." She said, seemingly stroking the air. "Come here." Fred took a hesitant step forward. She took his hand and placed it upon the chameleon. Fred could feel leathery dragon skin brush beneath his fingers, though he was very acutely aware of the scarred fingers covering his own and sending exhilarating tingles through his fingers.  
  
"Wow . . ." He breathed running his palm over the scaly, warm skin. "George, come check this out." He stepped next to his brother.  
  
"His name is Gemini and he's slightly visible when he's sleeping. Gets pink tinge." She explained. "Fred, grab the card on the cage door for me." She said, leaving the room and heading down the stairs. The two boys followed her eagerly.  
  
"Where are you going?" George asked as Chris picked up a pitcher from the coffee table.   
  
"It's a portkey. You two might as well come along, given that he's your father." Fred and George both touched the pitcher. A minute later they felt the familiar tug behind their navels as they were whisked away in a mass of blurry images.  
  
  
--  
  
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	5. Chapter 5: A Lesson in Language

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
" 'Any path that narrows future possibilities may become a lethal trap. Humans do not thread their way through a maze; they scan a vast horizon filled with unique opportunities.' " ~~~DUNE~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Fred! George! What are you two doing here?" Mr. Weasley exclaimed as he entered his office, a large pile of parchment in his arms; surprised at finding his two sons sprawled on the ground. Chris was still standing, having used Portkeys often enough to not fall on the landing.   
  
  
"Hallo Arthur." She said opening a cage that Mr. Weasley already had in his office.  
  
"Chris! Today's the twenty-ninth?" he asked. "Oh, I've lost track of the days." He rubbed his temples, slumping into his desk chair.  
  
"You've met before?" Fred asked.  
  
"The Jameson's have been working with the Ministry for ages. They've just perfected their breeding program a few years ago . . . but I suppose you two already knew that."  
  
"Basically."   
  
"So, where's the dragon?" Mr. Weasley asked, rubbing his palms together as Chris fixed the card onto the cage door.  
  
"He's in there."   
  
"What? There's nothing there."  
  
"He's a chameleon dragon. I told you that Arthur."  
  
"Oh, yes I forgot."  
  
"When it's asleep it turns pink!" George piped up.  
  
"It doesn't turn pink." Chris said superiorly. "It gets a pink _tinge_."   
  
"Oh." George said, but he was almost immediately distracted by a sharp chirping coming from the cage. Chris made the same sort of chirping noise back at the cage as she dug around into her magically expanded trouser pockets.   
  
"Are you talking to him?" Fred asked as she pulled out a pair of dark goggles and set them on top of one of the piles on Arthur's desk.  
  
"Yeah---er---we've breed an understandable language into hybrids and some of the pure breeds. It's incredible, really, the things that they talk about. Completely worth learning."  
  
"What'd it say?"   
  
"He thinks your office smells odd." She answered, an impish smile playing across her face. "We've got to go." She said looking at her watch. "Nice to see you again Arthur."   
  
"I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other though. Molly's told me you've moved in next door."  
  
She nodded, taking Fred's hand, Fred hanging onto George, and then grabbed the pitcher.   
  
They were gone in an instant.  
  
  
--  
  
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	6. Chapter 6: You couldn't Possibly Imagine

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
" 'THESE ARE MY FRIENDS. WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I WOULD DO ABOLUTLY ANYTHING FOR THEM?' 'EVEN IF IT MEANS DYING?' 'JUST SO RON AND HERMIONE COULD HAVE ONE MORE HAPPY NIGHT TOGETHER? YES, I'D DIE FOR THAT.' " ~~~Said by Harry later in this story.~~~  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
  
  
  
Over the next few weeks Chris could be seen doing anything from blowing things up in her house to training dragons in the field behind it. The seemingly endless amount of dragons that her family seemed to be breeding ranged from as small as a chipmunk to as big as a Muggle car. The larger ones obviously weren't shoulder dragons but small guard dragons.   
  
There were eleven people that lived in the Jameson house: her father (Hayde, who they'd only seem once), her, and her eight brothers: Timothy, Steven, Thomas, Brian, Adam, Bradley, Edward and Mathew (twins). With Timothy, the eldest at 24½ and down to Chris, sixteen.  
  
--  
  
Two days before the start of term at Timothy, Steve, Mat, Eddie, and Chris disappeared. Fred and George had seen Brad, Brian, Tom, and Adam running around frantically trying to get all their work done on time without their four siblings. The task was made even more difficult due to the fact that their father had left them for England's Ministry the week before.  
  
But the Weasley twins didn't have much time to think about this, they were much too busy preparing for their final year at Hogwarts – what with their mother going through their trunks at every possible moment.  
  
--  
  
On September the first the Weasley's were at King's Cross Station standing in front of the hidden platform to the Hogwarts Express.   
  
"You fir---" Mrs. Weasley began to say to Ron, but Ron had already torn through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, eager to see Harry and Hermione again. "You and George next." She said to Fred as they moved through to the Hogwarts Express. They loaded their Trunks into a compartment with Lee Jordan and leaned out of the window to kiss their mum good-bye.  
  
"Bye mum!" Fred called out the window as the train began to pull away.   
  
"Yeah mum! Don't worry we wont turn McGonagall's robes pink!"  
  
"Don't you dare!" she called after them.  
  
"What? I can't hear you!" George faked as they pulled faster and faster away.   
  
--  
  
When Harry Potter slid through hidden platform he was nearly knocked back through it by Ron.  
  
"Harry!" Another bushy headed shape embraced him.  
  
"Don't---" Harry pushed his two friends off of him. He cared so much for them, and Hogwarts, more then anything but after speaking with Dumbledore over the summer he couldn't be that close to them---he could barley go to Hogwarts knowing that all the wizarding community was depending upon him for their lives. Dumbledore hadn't said that but after hearing what Hagrid and Sirius and Mr. Weasley, and even Snape were doing for the Order, he didn't want to be there. He felt ill.  
  
He didn't want to hurt anyone.  
  
"What's wrong Harry?" Hermione prodded carefully.  
  
"Nothing, just a tough summer. Thanks for the letters and the food though. The pies were great Mrs. Weasley." She'd just come through the barrier behind Fred and George. (Who immediately scampered off to the train, identical evil grins on their faces.)   
  
"Oh you're welcome dear." She too embraced Harry. "Are you okay Harry?" She tried to brush a stray hair from his eyes but he flinched away from her hand. "Are those Muggles treating you right?"  
  
"They're fine. _I'm_ fine." She didn't believe a word of it.  
  
"We're going on the train now mum." Ron pulled Harry and Hermione away from his mother.  
  
  
They deposited their things in an empty compartment at the back of the train, and bid good-bye to Mrs. Weasley through the window. And Ron and Hermione settled into seats next to one another while Harry stood at the open window letting the bitter cold air whip at his skin.  
  
"You're a terrible liar Harry." Hermione said quietly behind him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"You can trust us Harry, really." Ron added. "We think we know what might be bothering you---"  
  
"You couldn't possibly imagine." Harry mumbled into the wind. His skin was beginning to burn from the exposure.  
  
"Look at us Harry." He didn't turn.   
  
"We won't let you fester like this, it isn't healthy."  
  
"Neither is dying." Harry turned to them. His face was red and his glare was so fierce and sad at the same time that it made Hermione want to cry.   
  
"No-one's going to die Harry."  
  
"You're kidding yourself if you believe that." Harry let out a harsh tight-lipped laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "People are already dying. Or don't you remember Cedric? . . . .I sure as hell do." He turned back to the window.  
  
"Come on Harry—--" Ron pled.  
  
"'Come on' what Ron?" Harry snapped slamming the train window shut. "What do you want me to do? Sit around pretending everything's alright and that no-one's in any danger at all? You two may be able to sit and do nothing but I can't!"  
  
"Oh Harry---" Hermione began.  
  
"Oh no you don't Hermione. Don't you start. I don't need your pity. I don't know why I even told you any of this in the first place." He threw his arms in the air and stormed out of the compartment.   
  
"Harry, don't run away from this!" she shouted out the compartment as Harry disappeared into the students that had swarmed the corridor.   
  
"Come on Herm." Ron pushed past her.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To get him. Damn it---"  
  
"Language Ron." He chose to ignore her.  
  
"Where did that prat go now?" Ron exclaimed vehemently, pushing a small first year boy out of his way as he made down through the tiny space. Making his way through the small group of children his eyes scanned the, now empty, train passageway. "If that kid disappears on me once more this year I'm going to pound him." Ron growled as they passed into the adjacent train carriage.   
  
"Don't say that Ron." Hermione reprimanded as they entered the, strangely silent, next carriage.  
  
"Well I will. Running off on us! Honestly, what good does he possibly think can come from something like that? We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him."  
  
"He's not a child Ron. He can take care of himself you know.   
  
"Well we're also supposed to be his friends. His BEST friends. And he's never kept anything from us before---"  
  
"Well we aren't going to be able to make him tell us anything anyway. And hush Ron, we're in the Prefects area."  
  
"You're a Prefect. Why didn't you sit over here?"  
  
"Because I wanted to sit with you and Harry. Now come on. He's got to be around here someplace."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
//Oh crap.// Harry thought to himself as he pushed his way through a group of giggling first year girls. //I just pushed away the only two people I actually care about. But then if they aren't my friends anymore then they'll be safe. Right?// he moved though the train past door after door of happy excited students.   
  
//No they won't.// a little voice in the back of his head pushed in. //They'll only be in slightly less danger then they are already in.// //Slightly less is better then nothing.// he thought back.   
  
//Even if you somehow managed to talk them out of standing by you to the very end it would never work. And do you know how that would affect you? Having them gone? You'd be miserable is what.//  
  
//I can live with miserable but I wouldn't ever be able to live with everyone I know dead.// He thought vehemently at the sensible portion of his brain.  
  
"Bullocks." He muttered aloud to himself, letting his head fall into his hands.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Harry?" Hermione said quietly, sliding open the compartment door.  
  
"There you are!" Ron collapsed into the seat next to him.  
  
"Ron---" Harry sighed.  
  
"No, guess who might be captaining The Cannons this year?" He and Hermione had decided not to prod Harry any further---for the time being.   
  
"Who?"  
  
"Oliver!  
  
The talk from then on was completely Quidditch orientated.  
  
  
--  
  
  
Fred and George climbed out of the horseless carriage and headed up to Hogwarts for their final year of schooling; gazing up at Hogwarts, the sun setting beautifully behind the castle. The twins followed Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson up the granite stairs and into the Entrance Hall. (Angelina looping her arm with Fred's.) The rest of the school streamed in around them as they sat in their usual seats, middle of the Gryffindor table.  
  
The Hall went quiet as Professor McGonagall and the tattered old Sorting Hat led in the first years. ('Is it just me,' George hissed at Fred. 'Or are there a lot less of'em this year?') She set the hat on the rickety three-legged stool and the flap at the brim opened wide as it began to sing.   
  
'I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
I peek inside your head!  
I see you're smart   
And good of heart—'  
  
And at that moment the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open and, none other than, Christopher Jameson tore inside followed closely by a much more discreet Mathew (taking the round-about way on the outer edge of the Hall).   
  
The sleeves of her black shirt and the green of her tunic were billowing behind her blurred figure as she zipped past the entirety of Hogwarts. Her flyaway dark hair danced crazily around her head as she stumbled up to the teachers' table. She was nearly there when Fred and George saw the three dragons that had swooped in after her brother. Chris's black Feather in the lead. There was a small indigo and a larger electric green in its wake.  
  
"I'm so sorry Albus." Fred heard her hiss to Professor Dumbledore. "_Mat_ lost Andromeda in the South Tower and we had to go look for him."  
  
"I didn't loose him." Mat said as he came upon the head table, his own Blue snoozing on his shoulder. "He's the worst trained of them all. The worm just got away."  
  
"Quite alright." Dumbledore broke in before they had a chance to argue any further. "Just take a seat and after the Sorting everything will be explained." She nodded in reply and turned around. It was just then that Chris seemed to realise that the Hat hadn't stopped singing and that nearly every pair of eyes in the hall were locked upon her brother and herself. (though Mat had already managed into his seat without much notice.) 'Sorry.' She mouthed to them and took her place at the staff table next to her elder sibling.  
  
By this time the Sorting Hat had finished its song and Professor McGonagall had begun reading off the first students.  
  
"Adams, Keith!" she read in which the hat roared: "GRYFFINDOR!" the instant it touched his head and continued through "Williams, Samuel!" (Hufflepuff).  
  
"Good!" Dumbledore began with an obviously forced smile. "Another year, another class, and another teacher."  
  
"Professor Figg has joined us as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a light smattering of applause. "Now for the feast." The golden platters filled themselves with a wave of Dumbledore's frail hands, and the students burst into robust conversation.   
  
"Why's Chris here?" George hissed down the table to Fred as he piled food onto his plate. "And Mat."  
  
"No idea." Fred answered.  
  
"And Chris would be who?" Lee asked bring his meat to his mouth.  
  
"The girl." George replied, looking up to the head table; Chris was seated between Professor McGonagall and Mat. Feather was resting calmly on her shoulder while Chris was desperately trying to keep the indigo away from the Professor---with no help from her sibling.   
  
She failed miserably though as the indigo pounced onto McGonagall's plate of chicken. She whistled sharply, sparks flying beneath her dark eyes. The dragon stopped immediately. She continued the whistles and squeaks until it had climbed from McGonagall's plate and sat itself beside the red and next to her dish, delicately roasting the remainder of her meat. She sighed heavily and rested her head on her arms.  
  
"Well," Dumbledore stood again. "This," Professor McGonagall nudged Chris; she jumped to her feet causing Feather to dig his claws into her shoulder. She didn't wince though and Dumbledore chuckled. "Is Christopher Jameson. You may see her family here occasionally. They are setting up a new security system in and around the school and the grounds. Periodically throughout the year there will be a number of other visiting wizards and witches. I expect you to treat them with your utmost respect."   
  
The dinner plates cleared and the students began their way to their separate dormitories.   
  
Fred, George, and Lee made their way eagerly to their rooms, actually looking forward to their first round of classes.  
  
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	7. Chapter 7: The First Injury

Xenith  
  
  
" 'STORMS BEGET STORMS. RAGE BEGETS RAGE. REVENGE BEGETS REVENGE. AND WARS? WELL, WARS BEGET WARS.' " ~~~Dune~~~  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
  
  
The seventh year Gryffindor Care of Magical Creatures class finally made their way out of the castle and down to Hagrid's cabin for, what was for most, their final class of the week. Everyone was in undoubtedly high spirits barely even dreading the inevitable monster that Hagrid was bound to have prepared for them. But only a sparse few of them actually knew that Hagrid wouldn't be teaching the class; though none of the informed would ever dare speaking of such guarded information.  
  
There was no teacher there as they reached the cabin, only the Ravenclaws that they were to have the class with. There were voices coming from behind the cabin though, near the forest. The teens followed the voices only to find Chris and one of her brothers, Mat, working with their backs to them on something that the students were unable to see.   
  
"Ahem." George cleared his throat loudly.  
  
"Wait." Mat threw back over his shoulder. There was a huge screaming screech from the thing causing all of the students to jump.  
  
"What was that?" Lee asked. Neither of the Jamesons' answered, or turned but both of them seemed to grunt heavily as they lifted an invisible something from the ground.  
  
"Could someone point their wand over here and lift a cloaking spell for us? We kind have our hands full."   
  
A Ravenclaw girl behind George held her wand out and muttered "Uuncloakificrius" under her breath. A spurt of colour spurted from her wand, hit the 'invisible thing' between the siblings, flew over their heads and collided with a massive fenced in pen; complete with dragons and humans.  
  
"Wicked." Fred and George muttered in unison.  
  
"Bloody hell—"Lee trailed off behind them.   
  
Chris and Mat lifted the reptilian creature over the fencing, depositing it into the waiting cart of Eddie Jameson.  
  
"Well," They turned back to the class. "Er---well, Hagrid isn't going to be teaching for a while." Chris started, taking a step towards the class while her brother leant against the posts behind him and pulled the infrared goggles down around his neck. He pulled a cigarette from the box in his pants pocket. "We'll be," She indicted the boy behind her. He gave a curt nod as he lit the end if the D.K.S and brought it to his mouth. "Your substitute teachers for the time being." She scowled at this. "Hagrid may be returning occasionally though."  
  
They were smart enough not to ask where he was.  
  
"Now, our first lesson deals with hybrids. This," she whistled sharply and her small Black swooped out of the forest trees and landed delicately on her outstretched arm; claws clinging to her heavy sleeve. "This is my Feather." The dragon cooed under her affections.  
  
"Feather is an Australian Black. A crossbreed of a Romanian Black and an Australian Parakeet." There was a rush of cloaks as everyone dug into their pockets and bags for parchment.  
  
"Feather isn't the most astounding breed in terms of colour and size. All AB's are black and relatively the same size. But what he lacks in originality he makes up in with intelligence." Feather clawed his way up her arm, nuzzling its way into the neck of her tunic.   
  
The Ravenclaw girl who lifted the cloaking spell, Emily Nathan, raised her hand next to Fred.   
  
"Yes?" Chris said, her eyes lingering on the two Weasley's, longest on Fred, before falling upon Emily.   
  
"What are your goggles for?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The goggles---over your eyes? What are they for?"   
  
"Oh," She blushed slightly; having become so accustomed to wearing the goggles she rarely ever removed them. Fred watched as she pulled the dark lenses onto the top of her head causing her hair to push up around her face at odd angles as she explained the complexities of heat sensory aided vision.  
  
"Now," she continued, blowing a thick strand of dark hair out of her eyes. "Split yourselves into two groups. Half go with Mat and the rest with me." The students immediately divided themselves, boys and girls. The girls, nearly all giggling, followed the brooding Mat---the boys, Chris.  
  
"And try not to show off." She called to her brother. He nodded her off, blowing a long stream of indigo smoke towards them as he hopped the fence, making his way over to his elder brother.   
  
"What is it he smokes?" George questioned as he leapt the fence after her. "I've never seen anything like it before."  
  
"It's like a potion only you smoke it. It coats your lungs and prevents disease when you're working with fire breathers." She muttered, watching her brother take a long drag off the black cigarette and blowing purple and indigo smoke rings into the air. "It's only one of the ways to defend your lungs though." She began a series of low, soothing, whistles and squeaks as they approached a large dragon, nearly the size of a Muggle car, and a bright pale yellow. The boys eyed her queerly.  
  
"This is Socrates." She stepped up to the dragon and ran her hands over the soft hide. "Socrates is a pure breed Perusion Ziggder. And unlike the Hungarian Horntail or the Vendurian Venus his scales are smooth and won't cause any bleeding when touched. But if the scales become agitated, or the dragon is scared or threatened, the scales lift." She lifted one of the large scales and slid her finger tip across its edge. The scale split the pad easily. She brought her finger to her mouth and sucked the excess blood from it before casting a healing charm over the thick wound; causing the blood to clot immediately. "I wouldn't recommend doing that, but if something like that were to occur human saliva has incredible healing properties . . . ahhh . . . you." She pointed to Lee. "What's your name?"  
  
"Jordan. _Lee_ Jordan." He gave an extravagant bow. "But you, Madame, may call me Lee."  
  
"_Mister_ Jordan." Fred and George didn't even try to stifle their laughter.   
  
"Yes?" Her formality not fazing him in the slightest.  
  
"Come here." He was imperceptibly hesitant. "He won't get you." She grinned mischievously.  
  
"I'm not worried." He strode up to the dragon.  
  
"Give me your hand."  
  
"Gladly." Lee slid his hand into her's and Chris brought his palm to the dragon's hide. "Wicked." He muttered---immediately engrossed by the beast before him. "Bullocks . . . it's soft!"  
  
"And you doubted a Professor?" Lee's hand continued to stroke the dragon, unconsciously moving closer and closer to its head. "Watch it!" Lee pulled his hand back as the dragon Socrates' fine toothed jaw snapped at the boy's roaming fingers. "Always, _always_, keep away from their head's." The class watched as her slender scarred fingers worked their way expertly up Socrates' neck and over his snout, all the while making gentle cooing noises and clearly calming the beast.  
  
"You keep away from his head quite well." Kyle Walters, a Ravenclaw Prefect, remarked, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.   
  
"Even the biggest creatures---."  
  
"Chris!" Mat's voice carried easily across the pen, cutting her off. "He's falling fast!" Her hands left the dragon's jaw as her eyes darted upward. The pristine blue expanse was utterly empty. This didn't seem to faze her though as the infrared goggles were brought to her face and she surveyed the sky.  
  
Chris swore violently and darted away from the class, joining her brothers as they made their way across the grounds. The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students followed, though at quite a distance.  
  
The siblings threw their wands into the air and sent out a massive Levitation Charm at what looked remarkably like blood seeping out of the blue. All of their faces went pale as the red spilled to the ground.   
  
"Someone get the Headmaster!" Timothy bellowed over his shoulder as Adam sent a burst of white light from his wand and into the air. The glow encompassed the immense form of an unconscious dragon. Tiny tendrils of white light spun around the dragon, increasing in speed and size until the colossal form was no longer visible through the light. There was an ear splitting 'snap!' as the light exploded from the body. The dragon was now visible, its dazzling white hide covered in blood.   
  
They carefully brought the dragon to the ground. "Someone---NOW!"   
  
A blonde boy, one of the Ravenclaw Prefect's, dashed towards the castle; over the shock of seeing a full grown dragon so close as he concentrated on getting to the Headmaster's office.  
  
Kyle ran as hard as he possibly could past frame after frame of inquisitive portraits. He was halfway to the office when he nearly crashed into Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"I saw the blood." He said immediately. "What happened?"  
  
"I don't know. One of the dragons is injured. I think it's the one of the one's that was sent to guard a one of the Gringotts buildings. It sure has all the right markings." Kyle let out in a great rush as they made their way back outside. He barely kept pace with man's long strides.  
  
--  
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	8. Chapter 8: Extra Courses?

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
  
" 'BASEBALL IS BOGOUS. QUIDDITCH IS LIFE.' " ~~~Unknown~~~  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
  
  
  
  
"So," Harry said nudging his way between Dean and Ron at breakfast on the last day of the first week of school. "What have we got for today?"  
  
"Testing, can you believe it?" answered a very glum looking Ron.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To see which extra courses we can get into." Hermione answered happily.   
  
"Why do we need any extra courses?"   
  
"To graduate, Harry. I'm going out for AP Transfiguration, Spell Construction and Theory, and Curse Breaking and Defense Spells."  
  
"What's 'AP' stand for?" Dean interjected.  
  
"Advanced Placement."  
  
"You know what the good thing about this testing is though?" Seamus plopped down in the empty seat across from Harry.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That there are some classes offered that you don't have to test into."  
  
"Really?" Ron became much happier at the prospect of not having to take any sort of test the first week of school. "Like what?"  
  
"Well, there's Elemental Magic, which I'm pretty sure is going to be a complete girl class, and there's Medicinal Magic, Muggle Myths, Legends, & Laws, and Journalism---but you have to submit some piece of writing for that one."  
  
"Maybe I'll do that---" Ron mused.  
  
"Oh yeah, there's also Quidditch Exploration, it was just added this year, it's open for third years and up. You have to try out though and there's really limited enrollment. I bet a lot of students will go out for it though."  
  
"There's a class on Quidditch?" Harry's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."  
  
"Nope. I hear Hootch is teaching it. Should be great."   
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?" She looked up from her thick text, Theory & Creation: Advanced Student Edition.   
  
"How many classes do we HAVE to pick up?"  
  
"I'd suggest at least two."  
  
"Only one's required though." Dean shot in. Hermione glared at him before returning to her book.  
  
"I think I've found my class." Harry smiled and continued to crunch his bacon.  
  
"I'm going to try for Journalism I think." Ron said rather quietly.  
  
"That's wonderful Ron!" Hermione cooed, snapping closed her book and causing Ron's ears to go slightly pink.  
  
"You're not just going straight for the easiest class."  
  
"Yea, well . . ."  
  
  
--  
  
  
Harry stood in a long line facing Madame Hootch out on the Quidditch Pitch with nearly eighty other students waiting for their instructions. The Quidditch Exploration class only accepted fourteen students and Harry didn't know what other class he would take if he didn't make this one.   
  
"Okay," Madame Hootch explained. "Everyone, pick up your broom and get in the air!" and the wild-haired woman took off into the sky.  
  
Harry climbed aboard his Firebolt and took off after her, soaring far ahead of his fellow students.   
  
"Why aren't Fred and George trying out?" He called out to Angelina Johnson who had just swooped up next to him.   
  
"They have other plans!" She called back, looping through a golden goal post.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Well, they got into an advance Potions class with Snape. Amazing isn't it?"  
  
"I'd say so."  
  
"Yeah, they're absolute wizz's in potions. They're mom doesn't know though. But it makes since if you think about it—they're constantly coming up with tricks for that joke shop. Not to mention---"  
  
"Everyone!" Madame Hootch inturupted. "Everyone, come over here please!" And the tryout began.  
  
They were divided by age first and put through their paces. Then they were separated by skill level. Harry found himself in a group consisting of Cho Chang, Angelina Johnson, Colin Creevey, surprisingly enough, and one very grown up Ginny Weasley, just to mention a few.  
  
"Now," Madam Hootch flew before the lower group of, mostly younger, students. "Thank you for coming out. You are dismissed." More then half of the original eighty took their brooms back to the ground and made their way back up to the school.  
  
"And as for you lot," she flew her broom up to the remainder of the students. "As you know, there are only fourteen spots available for this class and there are thirty-nine of you here. That means that less then half of you will make it. I wish you all the best of luck." Madame Hootch then continued to test each one of the teens individually, keeping some while dismissing others.  
  
By the end of the tryout Harry was positively exhausted, his face was completely wind burned, and his arms and legs were stiffer and colder then they'd been in ages. But Harry Potter had never been happier. He wasn't thinking about the nightmares, or how much danger he was continuously in. Just Quidditch. That's all that mattered right now. And the fact that there were now only twenty people left and he was one of them.  
  
"Okay everyone," Madame Hootch addressed the remaining twenty-five. "The following have received places in this class for the following year:   
  
Bowen, Harold Ravenclaw  
Chang, Cho Ravenclaw  
Creevy, Colin Gryffindor  
Dieonbryne, Patrick Slytherin  
Higgs, Terrance Slytherin  
Johnson, Angelina Gryffindor  
Malfoy, Draco Slytherin  
McGrife, Chase Slytherin   
McMillian, Ernie Hufflepuff  
Olin, Zeke Slytherin  
Potter, Harry Gryffindor   
(Harry nearly fell off his broomstick as he heard his name.)  
Rodengraff, Thomas Slytherin  
Roy, Michael Slytherin  
and   
Weasley, Virginia Gryffindor  
  
Congratulations to those of you who made it. To everyone else, there is always next year, you are dismissed. Now, this class---"  
  
But her speech was interrupted when a large something, that none of them could see, crashed into one of the tallest Quidditch stands and into the group of airbourne students.   
  
Harry, Draco, Chase, Zeke, Mike Roy, and Madame Hootch all managed out of the pathway of the invisible beast completely unscathed. Harold, Cho, Colin, Patrick, Terrance, Angelina, Ernie, and Thomas had just managed to stay on their broomsticks as the thing knocked into them like a massive bowling ball. Ginny wasn't nearly as lucky.  
  
Harry watched as Ginny fell from her broom---knocked completely unconscious.  
  
What Harry did next was pure instinct, born of too many years of having to look out for his friend, or his friend's little sister in this case. And when he saw Ginny plummet towards the hard grassy bottom of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch all he could think was that Ron'd kill him if he let his sister die.   
--  
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	9. Chapter 9: An Injured Weasley

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
  
'Blood is thicker than water, but politics is even thicker than blood.'  
~~~Dune  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
  
  
  
The nine teenage trainers rushed to the dragon as it settled into the earth with a soft thump.   
  
"Where's all this damn blood coming from?" Brad managed out as his hands worked over the burning dragon flesh.  
  
"Where isn't it coming from?" Brian snarled as he found one of the wounds at the base of its massive neck. "I've got one here." he said before closing his mouth over the bloody scrape.  
  
"Chris's got one too." Timothy nearly sighed with relief as he saw his sister drop to her knees and close her mouth over the immense gash.  
  
"Anymore?"  
  
Mat dropped his half smoked cigarette on the ground as his scarred hands found another lesion on the creature's underbelly. He disappeared, without a word, behind the dragon.  
  
"We can't find anymore Tim."   
  
"Good."  
  
A Ravenclaw girl cleared her throat loudly and tentatively raised her hand.  
  
"Not now." Timothy snapped, barely glancing in her direction as he conjured dressings. The girl's hand dropped immediately and she slinked to the back of the class flushing furiously.   
  
Chris spat a mouthful of dragon blood into the grass at her feet before putting her lips to the beast again. The blood singed the grass, burning little pits in the ground everywhere it touched. Fred could hardly imagine what it was doing to her mouth.   
  
"That's enough." Timothy tugged at her shoulder. "Brian, Chris, Mat . . . Mat!" he wrenched his brother away from the great worm.  
  
"Damn-it Timothy!" Mat knocked away from his brother and dropped back to his knees and pressed his palms against the gapping, bloody hole.   
  
"That's what these are for you git!"  
  
Timothy dropped a load of bandages in Mat's lap before moving to Brian. Mat kept one hand firmly on the open wound tearing savagely at the wrappings with his teeth and free, blood scored, hand.  
  
--  
  
"How is it?" Dumbledore strode easily though the students gathered at the fallen fire breather, Kyle in his wake.  
  
"There had to have been an attack." Timothy strode over to Dumbledore. "The blood only began to show when it reached us, but I believe Archimedes did some significant damage to the Quidditch Pitch."  
  
"Yes, I can see that. But will he survive?"  
  
"We're doing our best."  
  
"Mr Walters," Dumbledore turned to the Prefect. "You and Miss Andrews go to the Quidditch Pitch, I want you to wait there until one of Professors shows up." Kyle ran back up to the castle with Dylan Andrews, a pretty little girl with short black hair. "Fred? George?" The two jumped, startled at being addressed at a time like this.  
  
"Yes?" George managed as the Headmaster pulled the two aside.  
  
"I want the two of you to go to the Owlery and send a letter to your father for me. Tell him there's been an attack---although he should know that already. Fudge is going to try to pass this off as some random accident. I need you to ask your father to get back to me immediately. I need to know exactly what happened but I cannot leave the school." The two nodded. "This is vital information for the Order, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes." They answered in unison.  
  
  
--  
  
  
Harry dropped the front end of his broomstick and plummeted, straight at the ground, swooping beneath Ginny's tiny frame. Ginny smashed into Harry, knocking him from his broom. The full impact of her fall was transferred through him as all of the air was knocked from his lungs. He heard a girl scream from above him and a boy bellow something across the grounds from somewhere near Hagrid's cabin.   
  
Harry rolled Ginny delicately off himself as Madam Hootch rushed over to them.  
  
"What happened?" he asked immediately as the flying teacher levitated the smallest, unconscious, Weasley. "Is she going to be okay?"  
  
"Stay here Mr Potter. She addressed him vaguely. "I'm taking her up to Madam Pomfrey, she'll be fine."  
  
Harry stood there stupidly, watching Madam Hootch disappear into the castle.  
  
"What do you think it was Harry?" Colin Creevy said from Harry's shoulder.  
  
"What?" Harry turned around sharply.  
  
"What do you think happened?" Colin was trembling, pale, and looked like he was going to be sick. "Will Ginny be okay?"  
  
"Madam Hootch says she'll be fine." He answered automatically, peering over the top of Colin's head towards Hagrid's cabin.  
  
"But what was it Harry? What happened?"  
  
"A dragon." He'd spotted the white mass now blocking the cabin.  
  
"What? How do you know?" Harry nodded vaguely in the direction of the beast. Colin turned. "That can't be good. Someone should get Dumbledore."  
  
"He's coming." Their Headmaster was striding his way towards Hagrid's cottage with a blond boy close behind.   
  
They watched as Dumbledore directed the boy and another girl towards the Quidditch Pitch. The two students jogged towards them as two very crimson haired boys darted up to the castle.  
  
"Can everyone please gather 'round?" The blond wizard called to the newly assembled Quidditch class. "Okay," he started when the class had gathered themselves and stopped asking loud, random, questions. "Okay, we don't know what, exactly, has happened." There was an explosion of inquiries at this declaration. "Please!" He shouted above the noise. "Please! We may not know what happened but I assure you that it will be taken care of."  
  
"Is anyone hurt?" The girl asked.   
  
"Ginny Weasley was taken up to the hospital wing." Colin said quietly.  
  
"How bad was she?"  
  
"I caught her." Harry cut in looking up from the hole he was making in the grass with his foot. "Before she hit the ground, I caught her." He finished going back to the hole.  
  
"She was unconscious though. Whatever hit her must have knocked her out." Colin finished off for him.  
  
"What was it?" Harold Bowen, one of the two Ravenclaws, said.   
  
"Are you blind?" Draco sneered. "Take a look around you. It was a bloody dragon."  
  
"It was a dragon," the blond stopped the fight before it had a chance to begin. "But we do have everything under control and there was no breech of Hogwarts security. That dragon is supposed to be here. Everything else will be explained by Dumbledore."  
  
"But---"  
  
"Why---?"  
  
"How---?" Was started by nearly everyone. Only Harry remained quite.  
  
"EVERYTHING will be explained by Professor Dumbledore!" He repeated over the mass of voices.  
  
--  
  
"This can't be good." Fred muttered to George as they made their way away from the Owlery, having sent notice to their father of the attack.   
  
"I know. I mean, what kind of magic could injure a dragon like that?" George hissed as they passed a classroom. "Look," They stopped before one of the windows lining the Charms corridor. "Kyle and Dylan are taking everyone inside."  
  
"Come on George." Fred pulled away from the widow.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"I want to talk to Chris before dinner."  
  
--  
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	10. Chapter 10: Cheating

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
  
'For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her.'  
-E.M. Foster  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
  
  
  
"Why so glum chum?" Ron said, coming up behind Harry and elbowing him in the side. "How were the Quidditch trials?"  
  
"Good. I made it."  
  
"As if there was any doubt." He beamed. "Ask me about the journalism class." He prodded.  
  
"How was it?"  
  
"It was GREAT! I never thought I'd ACTUALLY like writing that much! And I'm good at it! I guess all these years with Hermione in the library have finally paid off."  
  
"Talking about me behind my back Mr Weasley?" Hermione nudged between the two boys with her usual armful of books.  
  
"Always." Ron grinned tenderly down at Hermione causing her to flush softly.  
  
"There was an attack." Harry said randomly, taking not notice of his two friends.   
  
"WHAT!" They snapped together, shattering their reverie.  
  
"Yeah, they don't know where yet, but there defiantly was one."  
  
"Harry," Hermione pulled them aside. "How do you know?"  
  
"I was testing for the QE class, yeah?" They nodded in unison. "Well, this massive invisible thing crashed into the stadium."  
  
"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione broke in.  
  
"Ginny was---"  
  
"Ginny was hurt! Harry, why didn't you tell me?!"  
  
"Ron! She's fine. She fell off of her broomstick and I dove underneath her. She hit me. Not the ground."  
  
"Good. I'd've killed you otherwise."  
  
"Back to the attack Harry." Hermione broke in, dragging them back to the conversation.  
  
"Yes, well, when everyone was on the ground I looked over to Hagrid's cabin. There was this group of students and, believe it or not, dragons. There was blood everywhere."  
  
"That's terrible."  
  
"I know. Well then the two Ravenclaw Prefects came running up to us. They said that Dumbledore would explain everything at dinner."  
  
"What kind of place would need a dragon to guard it? And then, why would the dragon come here for help?"  
  
"The new substitutes for the Care of Magical Creatures class watch over 'em." Lee said coming up behind them.  
  
"Eaves dropping Lee?" Hermione spun on him, eyes sharp.  
  
"No. Just walking by, looking for Gred 'n Forge. Don't know where they've gotten off to."   
  
"Well we haven't seen them. Sor---" Hermione started.  
  
"I thought they only took care of _small_ dragons." Harry broke in. "What was that MASSIVE thing doing at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Not to sure on that one mate." Lee admitted. "But they obviously trained the thing. You should have seen them jump at it when it fell. I've never seen anyone so worried over a lizard before."  
  
"Was it okay?"  
  
"They said it should be. But all that blood was defiantly nerve wrecking. You'll have to ask them about it in your lesson."  
  
"It was that bad?" Hermione looked dreadfully anxious.  
  
"You couldn't possibly imagine how gory their lives must be. Tending to monsters like that."   
  
"Have you seen your brothers by the way?" He added as an after-thought to Ron.  
  
"Sorry." He shook his head.  
  
"Oh well. See you at dinner?"  
  
"Yeah." Hermione nodded him off as he entered the Great Hall, leaving the three in quiet contemplation.  
  
"We should get to dinner ourselves." Hermione said, finally breaking the silence.  
  
"Should I go see Ginny?" Ron seemed torn between the thought of leaving his sister alone and going to hear what Dumbledore had to say on the attack. He'd let Hermione decide.  
  
"Come with us Ron. We'll all go to see Ginny after dinner. I want to find out what happened." Ron nodded and followed Hermione and Harry into the Great Hall.   
  
  
  
"Harry?" Colin came up timidly behind Harry halfway through the meal.   
  
"Yes Colin?" He didn't even turn.  
  
"Harry, can you help me?"  
  
"With what?" He sighed, turning around on the bench.  
  
"I know something's going to happen, Harry."  
  
"What do you think's going to happen?"  
  
"Please don't talk to me like I'm still eleven Harry. I'm nearly fifteen."  
  
"Alright." Harry looked much taken aback at this statement. He'd never really thought of Colin as anything except the little eleven year-old boy that'd always followed him around.  
  
"I know we're at war Harry, and I want to make sure Dennis'll be safe."   
  
"He'll always be safe at Hogwarts Colin. We'll all be." He said, trying to convince himself as much as he was Colin.  
  
"I want to be sure though. Please Harry."  
  
"I don't understand what you want me to do."  
  
"I want to help you Harry. Help keep you safe---"  
  
"I don't need any more protection." He turned sharply away from the younger Gryffindor.  
  
"We all do Harry." Colin said quietly. "I want to protect my brother Harry. I'm sure you'd do the same. That's why I want to protect you too. I figure if we're all protecting one another we're all much better off."   
  
Harry didn't answer for quite a long time but Colin stood diligently behind him, eyes glued to a bird-shaped blotch on the stone floor.  
  
"Okay." Harry finally answered. "I'll keep an eye on your brother."  
  
"Thank-you Har---"  
  
"But I don't know how much good it'll do. I'm not the best wizard here you know."  
  
"It can't hurt though." Colin finished, a quiet, pensive, smile playing across his face as he made his way back to his seat by Dennis.  
  
"That was very big of you Harry." Hermione said softly from his right.  
  
"Humph." He snorted. "So what else is new?"  
  
"Shhh," Ron said from across the table. "Dumbledore's standing up." They both quieted.  
  
"I'm sure many of you have noticed the damage that has been done to our Quidditch Pitch," There were many gasps and stunned groans from the school's avid Quidditch players. "The pitch, I assure you, will be restored to its former grandeur in no time. Worry not." There was more then one sigh of relief. "But there has been an attack. I have been informed of an assault on one of the Gringotts buildings. Bulgarian branch. The building was being guarded by, in addition to its normal security, a pair of dragons. The building in question was obliterated. There was only one survivor. One of the dragons. As you can probably all imagine, this is an absolutely devastating occurrence. Only powerful magic is able to destroy something like a dragon. The beast managed its way back to its masters, our new Care of Magical Creatures substitutes, but in the course of doing so our pitch has sustained a significant amount of damage."  
  
"This attack is the first definite move of a newly re-empowered Voldemort." A terrified murmur ran through the quiet. "The Dark Mark was found over the ruins of the building. Process this information as you will. I have no doubt it will be in the Prophet tomorrow morning for any of you who choose not to believe me." He surveyed the students sadly. "But please do believe me when I say this: we are at war. Fight or run. The choice is yours, not your parents and not your professors. Make sure you choose wisely." Dumbledore sat back down, hand running though his silver beard as he stared determinedly at the back of the Great Hall.   
  
  
---  
  
  
"Where'd all the dragons go?" George said as they came upon Hagrid's cottage.   
  
"Where'd all of the Professors go?" Fred's question was answered almost immediately when Chris jumped out of nowhere.   
  
"I JUST said I was going up there! Don't you guys EVER listen?!" she shouted into the nothingness over her shoulder. "I'm sixteen! I can take care of SOME things you know!" she turned around, jumping at the sight of the two boys. "Where'd you two come from?"  
  
"We could ask you the same thing." George said, backing up a tad at the sight of her.   
  
"Cloaking spell's back up."   
  
"Oh, what happened to your face?"  
  
"Dragon blood." She offered no further explanation as she conjured a towel with her wand. Chris took the towel out of the air before her, and slid her wand into a long, thin, specially designed, pocket at the side of her trousers. She strode past the two Weasley's and started the trek up to the castle, working the blood off her cheeks and hands as she went.   
  
"Your hands!" Fred said, shocked. "And your mouth!"  
  
"Yeah, completely burned, right?" She smiled painfully over at him.  
  
"I'd say so." George replied.  
  
"Why are you guys down here anyway?" Chris stopped walking and started digging around in her pockets.  
  
"Fred?"  
  
"Wanted to see how that dragon was." He said loudly, kicking his brother in the shins. "Didn't we George?"   
  
"Yes, yes! I remember now!"   
  
"He'll be fine. We were able to stop the bleeding in time." She finally managed the orange burn cream out of her pocket and began applying it haphazardly to her chin and hands.  
  
Fred and George made half an effort to cover their laughter.   
  
"I'd like to see either of you get this ruddy stuff on nicely without a mirror."  
  
"Here," Fred took the tube from her already orange coated hands. "Let me." Fred took up position in front of the dragon girl and ran his orange coated fingers softly over her face. "Why do you do that anyway? If the blood burns?" He said quietly. His thumb stopped movement over her lips, her dark eyes catching his own icy blues.  
  
"The human tongue heals quickly." She said softly. "`Specially with magic. A worm might—might not s-stop bleeding, even with magic. Human saliva has certain . . ." She trailed off.  
  
"Certain?"  
  
"Healing properties . . ." She whispered.  
  
"Um-hmmm?" Fred's hand moved beneath her chin, trailing orange goo as he lifted it to meet his own.   
  
"Yes . . . healing prop. . ." She began before her orange coated lips were moving gently against Fred's.  
  
"Ahem." George cleared his throat loudly. The two sprang apart---both faces pink through the orange burn cream.   
  
"That was wrong." Chris said, taking a huge step back from the Weasley. "That was very, very wrong."  
  
Fred just stood there, orange covered mouth hanging slightly open.  
  
"Shouldn't you two be up to dinner?"   
  
"Yes, yes!" George said, stepping up to the professor. "Dinner. Come Fred!" He pulled his idiot brother away from the girl and dragged him up the castle steps. "Bye Professor!" He called over his shoulder. She gave half a wave before turning her back on the two. "And what, may I ask, was that?" he addressed his brother when the doors of the castle entrance were shut firmly behind them.  
  
"Huh?" He turned slowly to George.  
  
"Hallo?" He smacked the back of his twin's ginger head.   
  
"What was that for?" Fred turned angrily on his brother, rubbing the back of her head.   
  
"`What was that for?' 'WHAT was that FOR?' What do you think that was for you blithering idiot!"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"All you have to say is 'oh'? You should be glad that I was the only one out there you fool. In broad daylight! What ever possessed you to do that? AND you have a GIRLFRIEND!"   
  
"Oh, yes. Well. . ." He stammered.  
  
"She's a professor, Fred. A professor."  
  
"She's younger then the two of us. You heard her."  
  
"That doesn't change her position Fred."  
  
"Odd."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This whole sensible thing on you."  
  
"Shudd-up."   
  
"Bullocks." Fred muttered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dinner's out. Look." Everyone was flowing out of the Great Hall rather somberly.  
  
"Hey Fred." Angelina called to Fred, her whole face lighting up as she bounded over to him. "Why weren't you at dinner?" she stood on tiptoes, wiping the orange off his face before pecking him quickly on the lips. "And why is there burn cream all over your face and hands?"  
  
"Oh, you know. . ." George answered suggestively.   
  
"More trouble I suppose." Fred draped his arm over the short Quidditch player's shoulders as they headed up to the Gryffindor common room.   
  
"You could say that." George hinted. "Eugh!" George grunted as Fred elbowed him in the stomach.  
  
"Did you hear about the attack?"  
  
"Yeah. A dragon was injured. Right, Fred?" George prodded again.  
  
"That's what I heard."  
  
"It's terrible though, isn't it? All those people killed." Fred just nodded as they approached the portrait hole.  
  
"Shnookums." He addressed the Fat Lady.  
  
"Exploding Snap Fred? George?"   
  
"We've gotta go work on something. Right George?"   
  
"Yeah. Something." He eyed his brother queerly.   
  
"Come on."  
  
"What do we have to work on?" George pulled on the back of his brother's jumper, stopping him half-way up the stairwell.  
  
"The mistletoe. You want it done for Christmas, don't you?"  
  
"Hmmm, and I wonder what made you think of MISTletoe right now?"  
  
"We need to get it done."  
  
"Was it Angelina. . .?" George ignored Fred as they made their way up seven flights of stairs to the seventh year boys dorm. "Or was it Ch---"  
  
"Of course it was Angelina you lunk."  
  
  
--  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	11. Chapter 11: Bubbles in your Hair

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
'I'm tugging at my hair  
I'm pulling at my clothes  
I'm trying to keep my cool  
I know it shows  
  
I'm staring at my feet  
My cheeks are turning red  
I'm searching for the words inside my head  
  
I'm feeling nervous  
Trying to be so perfect  
'Cause I know you're worth it  
You're worth it yeah  
  
If I could say what I want to say  
I'd say I want to blow you . . . . . AWAY. . . .'  
~~Avril Lavigne: 'Things I'll Never Say  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
  
  
  
  
Ginny woke in the sterile hospital wing early (3 am) Saturday morning. Through the darkness she could just make out a ragged shadow, roughly the size and shape of her brother and best friend, sitting at her bedside.  
  
Ginny rolled out of the hospital bed with only one thought in her head. Food.  
  
Her plan, however, was halted immediately when she body slammed someone standing in the doorway. The body grunted as Ginny let out a tiny scream and both fell to the floor.  
  
"Ginny? Is that you?" it was a boy's voice, thick and husky from sleep.  
  
"Harry?" She answered.  
  
"You shouldn't be out of bed Ginny." He said standing and offering his hand.  
  
"I was hungry." She slid her small hand into his as he helped her from the floor. "Your hands are cold." She was immensely grateful it was so dark in the wing as her face flushed furiously.  
  
"Sorry." He pulled away from her.  
  
"It's okay." She whispered.  
  
"Fred and George would be here too but we told them we'd take the night shift."  
  
"'The night shift'?"  
  
"Yeah, we said we'd keep an eye on you at night."   
  
"Like those two dunder-heads would even be able to stay awake all night. But, then-again, neither could you three." She laughed quietly as she climbed back into the bed, allowing Harry to pull the discarded white linen back over her small frame.  
  
"I WAS awake, but that wall was just so comfortable. And at least I caught you before you escaped."   
  
"I wasn't escaping. I was hungry."  
  
"Ahhh," Harry dug around in the pocket of his trousers, retrieving from them, a chocolate frog. "Here. Madame Pomfrey would be proud. About the chocolate I mean." He stumbled out.  
  
"Yeah." Ginny could just make out his emerald eyes studying her though the moonlight.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
--  
  
  
As the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to Quidditch season, Fred found himself quite content and distraught all at once.  
  
The object of Fred's stress seemed painfully oblivious to the effect she had managed over him and was avoiding him at meal times and not calling on, or even looking at him, during class.  
  
George wasn't oblivious though, and brought Fred's attention to the matter as they strolled their way down the empty corridor to their History of Magic class. (They were already quite late due to an unfortunate explosion in their dormitory during break.)  
  
"Hey, dung-brains," George prodded, one fiery red hand pulling him out of the way of a large suit of armour. "Pay-attention."  
  
"What?" Fred replied, George's shake successfully pulling him out of his cogitative daydream.  
  
"Pay-attention bacon-bum."  
  
"I am. Just not to where I'm going."  
  
"Then to what?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
"It is my business. More, probably, then it is yours."  
  
Fred didn't answer, rubbing idly at the green dye covering his large, freckled hands.  
  
"You know, Angelina may not have noticed the newest object of your affections, Fred, but I sure as hell have."  
  
"And what's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You know very well what I mean."  
  
"Refresh my memory."  
  
"Well, let's see," George stopped in the middle of the corridor, leaning against a portrait full of pretty witches in fluttery nightgowns. "This THING, I believe, has two long legs, weighs, I imagine, 105, 110 maybe, muscular, and, oh, how many brothers?"  
  
"Eight." Fred answered immediately.   
  
"My point exactly."  
  
"Shudd-up." Fred pushed George's smirking face out of his way with one green hand, leaving an emerald handprint in its wake. "Come-on, we're going to be late." And he made his way down the corridor, running his fingers through his hair, streaking his scarlet locks green.  
  
"We're always late!" George called, jogging after him.  
  
  
  
Fred and George strode elegantly in their History of Magic class, immediately commanding the attention of everyone (who was awake at least) within. Granted, this may have been due to the fact that they were twenty minuets late for the double period, but Professor Binns didn't even glance their way. The two took up their usual positions in the very back row of the classroom beside Lee.  
  
"Where were you two?" Lee whispered at them as soon as they slid into their respective chairs.  
  
"Around." George mused, spinning his wand through his fingers.  
  
Fred let out a tremendous yawn and leaned the back of his chair against the wall behind him.  
  
"Why are your hands green Fred?" Lee addressed the other twin. "And you, George, why are your red?"  
  
"You think he'd learn not to question us by now, wouldn't you George?"  
  
"One would like to believe so. . ."  
  
". . . But when you're thicker then mum's pudding, I mean . . ."  
  
". . . What can we do?" George wrapped up.  
  
"Oh shove-it you two." Lee turned back to the parchment he had been doodling upon before their arrival. George tipped his chair next to his brother's, still spinning his wand through his fingers.  
  
"So I was thinking," Fred began.  
  
"Don't strain yourself." George muttered.  
  
"So I was thinking of little Ginny. . ." He ignored him.  
  
"Yeah, what about her?"  
  
"Well her birthday's coming up you know. She'll be fifteen."  
  
"Yup, the twenty-second, right?"  
  
"Yup, and I believe that she's old enough for a WWW gift box, don't you?"  
  
"But of course! We can give her samples of all our newest stuff. She'll be ecstatic to try'em out in her classes."  
  
"'Cept the mistletoe, we'll release that at Christmas." Fred gave his wand a twist and a large pink bubble began forming at the tip.  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"What?" Fred flicked his wrist and the bubble detached itself—having reached roughly the size of a Bludger.  
  
"Just thinking." It was obviously an invitation to as 'What about?'. Fred chose to decline.  
  
"Don't strain yourself." He mocked.  
  
"Shut-it. Ask me what?"  
  
"What'ch thinking?" The pink bubbles were streaming from the end of his wand and stringing themselves elegantly through Katie Bell's loose, golden curls.  
  
"I was wondering when we're ever going to have a chance to buy Ron those robes."  
  
"Hogsmeade trip?" Fred offered vaguely, sharing in Katie's glee.  
  
"You think we're going to have one though? I mean, with the attack 'n all?"  
  
"We should," he trailed the bubbles down Katie's back and over her shoulder. "The dragon was from Bulgaria not Hogsmeade. Or even Diagon Alley. Should be fine." Another great pink orb blossomed from his wand tip, floating innocently in the direction of one Curtis Saunders---the newest edition to the Slytherin Quidditch team. (Keeper under Draco Malfoy's strict captaincy.) The mess the bubble made when it collided with the back of his head wasn't a pretty sight. Unlike the beautiful jewels made for Katie, Curtis received a glistening orb of chewing gum. With an imperceptible 'pop!' the bubble exploded, a sticky film covered all of the curly locks on the back of he boy's head. A tentative, muscular hand touched at the remnants of the bubble before his head swiveled; an icy glare probing the back of the room. Fred, like George, was idly spinning his wand over his knuckles and through his fingers, a look of vague inattention firmly in place.   
  
"So how about this. . ." And George dove into idyllic conversation with his brother---successfully avoiding paying attention to Professor Binns, per-usual.  
  
  
--  
  
  
QUIDDITCH TRIALS; 7:15 PM  
  
"Harry, you should be Captain." Angelina said for the umpteenth time that night. "Look at it this way, it'll be good practice for next year when you're the only one left on the team. We're all graduating."  
  
"But you might get lucky Harry," Fred stuck in. "With George's grades you might not be the ONLY one left!"  
  
"Hey, you'll probably have Fred for the next TWO years Harry!" George laughed.  
  
"You'll never be rid of us!" The Beaters grinned evilly over at the bespectacled boy.  
  
"Angelina," Harry dove onward, ignoring the ever constant antics of Fred and George. "I don't WANT to be Captain. I'm the youngest on the team—it'd look terrible."  
  
"You're the best player though."  
  
"I'm the best SEEKER. Nothing more. I don't know anything about plays or anything. Give me a year to learn and in the mean time make Katie Captain. She's the best ALL-AROUND player." Katie's blush paired exquisitely with the few bubbles still lingering in her hair. "How about it Katie, want to be Captain?"  
  
"I--I guess so. If its okay with the rest of the team that is."  
  
"Then it's settled!" Harry stood, clapping his hands before him and not waiting for the rest of the team's nods of consent. "Let's get these trials started. They were supposed to begin 15 minutes ago!" Harry strode out of the Gryffindor changing-rooms, Firebolt in hand, and team in stride. Harry wasn't necessarily tremendously excited about getting on with the new team trials, but more so with the prospect of getting into the air. Letting all his tension and anxiety out in a blood curdling hundred foot plummet. The Quidditch class, at the present, was all book work and theory, no flying whatsoever.  
  
The moment Harry could see the newly restored Pitch; he shot out on to the field with a tremendous 'whoop!' of elation that had the added effect of scaring the prospects out of their wits.  
  
"Come down Harry!" Katie called up to him, waving her broomstick above her head.  
  
Harry spiraled towards the ground, hovering at eyelevel above the grass. Rampaging Hippogriffs couldn't drag him off his broomstick now.  
  
"I'm Katie Bell, Gryffindor's newest Captain and one of its Chasers." She introduced herself to the twenty or so Gryffindors who had shown up. Ginny and Colin among them. "That's Angelina Johnson, the other chaser, Fred and George Weasley, our Beaters, and Harry Potter, our ever exuberant Seeker." Harry slid down on his broomstick, folding his hands across the end and resting his chin on them. "Tonight we are looking for one first-string Chaser and one first-string Keeper. There are a lot of you but I wish each every one of you the very best of luck.  
  
"I want all of the Chasers over there," she waved towards the goal posts at the latter end of the field. "And the Keepers over here with me."  
  
Harry wound up having absolutely nothing to do but hover above the field next to Katie, diligently observing the newest team prospects.  
  
"What'd you think?" Katie said after a half-an-hour of silent observation.  
  
"Well," Harry started off, eyeing the flyers below him. "I have no idea hat those two are doing going out for Chaser positions." He indicated two extremely muscular sixth year boys. "I mean, look at those arms!" The two boys had just tossed their sweaty t-shirts to the ground.  
  
"Don't worry," Katie said, a girlish smile tugging at her lips. "I am."  
  
"Katie! That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Harry pulled a face at his Captain.  
  
"I know what you meant. And with a year of training behind them, I think they'd make a fine pair of first-string Beaters to replace those nuts." Fred and George were spinning intricate loop-de-loops around each other in the middle of the Pitch. "I'll miss them." Katie mused quietly to herself. "They make me laugh."  
  
"I won't tell them you said that." Harry gave her a quiet smile of realization. He'd miss them too.  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
"Thanks." She grinned down at the swooping boys before pulling Harry back to their previous topic. "Little Creevy'll make a fair Keeper I think."  
  
"Specially compared to those other duffers down there."  
  
"Yeah," Katie giggled. "I don't know, though . . . I mean, take a look at Donnalley. He's a little . . . a little . . ."  
  
"Nuts?" Harry provided.  
  
"Spontaneous. But he hasn't let anything by him yet."  
  
"And Chaser?"  
  
"I've got four in mind right now. . ."  
  
"Three too many."  
  
"Are you going to let me finish anything?"  
  
"Nope." Harry replied peevishly.  
  
"I'm of course considering Ginny Weasley. It figures she can fly that well—practically grew up on her very own Quidditch team!"  
  
"You're considering Bennet and Perkins, right?"  
  
"Read my mind Harry. Can you guess the forth?"  
  
"Hmmm, Gresham?"  
  
"Right in one!"  
  
"Maybe I should have been Captain after all." He sent a classic Weasley grin her way---completely relishing the happiness of the moment.  
  
"You had your chance Potter, on numerous occasions. It's my turn---team---now." Katie swooped elegantly to the ground, waving the Gryffindors down after her. "Now," she addressed the students gathered around her. "I know it was quick, but I've managed to thoroughly assess the talent here and have come to my decision." Even the large sixth years were trembling, dreadfully wanting to be a part of the best House team Hogwarts had seen in centuries. "Will Brigid Bennet, Casper Perkins, Ginny Weasley, Timothy Gresham, Trevor Andrews, Conner Donnalley, Colin Creevy, and Paul Bettany please step forward?" They all obayed. "Congratulations, you've made it. To the rest of you, I wish you the best of luck in the coming years." They made their way slowly back to the changing rooms.  
  
"Now," Katie addressed the newest, smiling, Quidditch players. "Conner Donnalley?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You're our newest Keeper. Creevy, Reserve Keeper." The boy nodded, the pride evident on his young face. "Weasley?"  
  
"Yes?" Three voices answered immediately.  
  
"Ginny Weasley?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Think you can keep up with Angelina and me?"  
  
"I'll try."  
  
"Now that's just not the attitude we want on our team. Care to try again?"  
  
"Most certainly Captain!" She gave a smart salute, propping her broom over one shoulder as she came to attention.  
  
"Perkins, Bennet, and Gresham---I want you three as our Reserve Chasers." They all beamed at the seventh year.  
  
"What about us?" Paul Bettany interrupted. "We're Chasers too. Right?"  
  
"Wrong. I want you two as Reserve Beaters. These two---"  
  
"Psychopaths." Fred offered.  
  
"Quidditch genius's. . ." George continued---absolutely unhelpfully.  
  
"Incredibly handsome. . ."  
  
"Beautifully brilliant. . ."  
  
"Positively stupendous. . ."  
  
"Enough!" Katie cut short what would have, without a doubt, gone on forever. "These two BOYS will teach you the ropes."  
  
"Hello, Fred Weasley." Fred's bow was soon followed by an identical one from George.  
  
"George."  
  
"Have we met?"  
  
"The reason I have decided on such a vast amount of Reserve players is because in the past few years we have had a few. . .minor mishaps," Katie chose her words carefully, throwing a sideways glance at Harry. "In the past and I want to be prepared! Are you with me?" Nods and excited grins followed his. "Yes! Now off to bed. Quidditch Practice tomorrow night. Seven-thirty!"   
  
  
  
"I know _I'm _ not going to bed now." George mused quietly to Fred as they changed out of their Quidditch sweats in the Gryffindor changing rooms.  
  
"It's only eight o'clock."  
  
"Want to test the---"  
  
"Shhh!" Fred cut him off, noticing Ginny eying them beadily. "And yes."  
  
"What are you two on about?" Ginny prodded.  
  
"Nothing Gin!"  
  
"We'll give you some for Christmas." And he bolted out of the changing rooms and up to the castle, George mere meters behind.  
--  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	12. Chapter 12: I DON'T play for Slytherin!

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
  
"SLYTHERINS ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE STUPIDITY OF OTHER HOUSES."  
~~~Salazar's Rules of Scheming   
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
  
  
  
  
"Shhh!" George hissed at his brother. "You're so loud!"   
  
"Shut-it Forge, I need to concentrate if I'm going to get this right."  
  
"Just hurry, they're going to be up soon."  
  
"You think I don't realise that?" There was a loud groan from the sleeping dormitory and a thump as a pair of feet connected with the floor.  
  
"Did you hear that?"   
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
"I need thirty seconds . . ."  
  
"You don't have thirty seconds!"  
  
"Look, who's the potions genius here?"  
  
"I know, I know . . ."  
  
"DONE!"   
  
"Quiet!" George grabbed Fred's wrist and pulled him behind a shower curtain as Draco Malfoy stumbled into the room. He fumbled for his wand to light the torches, running one perfect pale hand though his normally immaculate blonde hair--this morning rumpled and smushed to one side. Draco squinted in the new light and rubbed his eyes as he made his way over to the row of shower stalls, sticking a pale arm into the curtained enclosure that housed Fred and George, causing water to cascade over the two boys.  
  
"Ahh-ehh!" Fred let out as the icy water beat down on his bare skin. George clapped his hand over Fred's mouth and yanked him out of the stall as a completely stalkers Draco stepped into the quickly warming stream.   
  
  
  
  
"I'm going to be sick!" George said as they stumbled out of the Slytherin common room and into the empty dungeon corridor, his white tee-shirt and broomstick patterned boxers clinging to his muscled chest and thighs.  
  
"I'm not!" Fred announced happily, shaking the water out of his hair like a schnauzer, splattering the stone (and his brother) with water. "Didn't see anything!" Fred pumped his bare arms in the air and hopped down the passageway, giddy as a schoolgirl.  
  
"You don't know how lucky you are." George said, grabbing his brother's arm and dragging him up the marble staircase to Gryffindor tower.  
  
  
--  
  
  
"WEASLEY!" Malfoy bellowed as he stormed into the full Great Hall flanked by seven Slytherins with scarlet and gold striped hair. "Where are they?" He slammed his fist down on the Gryffindor table, sending a shudder through its surface. The Gryffindor's snorting laughter was their only reply.  
  
"My guess would be Gryffindor tower." Harry said dully, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  
  
"I'm going to kill them!"   
  
"I'd watch what I were saying if I were you." Harry took a leisurely drink from his goblet.   
  
"WEASLEY!" he bellowed again.  
  
"You rang?" Fred and George strode into the Hall, scarlet robes swinging 'round their ankles as they stopped under the arch of the doorway.   
  
"You'll pay for this."  
  
"PINTALIS COLOURIS TOTALIS SLYTHERIN!" The latter was shouted by each and every member of the Slytherin Quidditch team as two shots of colour burst from the tip of every wand. Every affiliate of the opposing team was striped green and silver.  
  
Harry, Katie, Angelina, Ginny, Colin, and the remainder of the reserves (and Fred and George at the entrance) jumped from their seats, wands at the ready. Only Hermione beat them to it.   
  
"PINTALUS COLOURIS TOTALIS GRYFFINDOR!" She shouted, blanketing the twelve players in a shower of scarlet and gold. The shimmery mist cleared to reveal seven red and gold players sporting the words 'GO GRYFFINDOR!' in a glowing yellow letters across their fronts.  
  
"Dis----"  
  
"Put your wands down this instant or I will cancel the Quidditch match!" McGonagall bellowed, finally having made it through the students that had gathered around, hoping for a duel or, even better, a fist fight. "Now, Mr Malfoy, or I will disqualify the Slytherin team for the rest of the year." Malfoy's wand disappeared into the folds of his scarlet robes. "Now, get back to your tables and get to your changing rooms before I change my mind." She snapped, spinning on her heels and charging her way back up to the staff table.  
  
"Come-on." Malfoy grumbled to his team and strode elegantly out of the Great Hall, closely followed by the fifteen emerald-clad Gryffindors.  
  
  
--  
  
  
The Gryffindor team spoke little while they gathered their broomsticks---although Fred and George complained loudly of their empty stomachs.   
  
"Maybe if you had shown up on time instead of getting us all striped Slytherin---"" Ginny reprimanded.   
  
"Quiet you three," Katie shushed as she took up her place before the team. "Now, I know very well that I am NOT Oliver and that there is no way that I could possibly fill his shoes. But that does not mean that I don't think we can win! Even if we DO look like this." She motioned at their Slytherin apparel. "We managed to take the cup the year before last and I know we can take it again this year! We have a spectacularly well trained team here which means that I expect that what I have seen in training to be evident out there today. Don't let us loose to those trolls!" She spun on her heels and led the way out to the Quidditch pitch.  
  
  
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	13. Chapter 13: The Snitch

Xenith   
  
  
  
  
"I choose to win  
So I choose to fight."  
-Weathered, Creed  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
  
  
"The Quaffle is up and the players are off!" Lee's voice echoed around the Pitch as fourteen completely scarlet, green, silver, and gold players zoomed into the air. "And their robes clearly suggest their loyalties lie with each other today as a scarlet and gold Slytherin Beater pelts a Bludger at the announcer. And missing him by MILES I might add."   
  
"Jordan." McGonagall warned.  
  
"I only speak the truth Professor!"   
  
Harry blocked out any further prattle from Lee as he circled the upper-most ring of the Quidditch Pitch, sharp emerald eyes scouring the air around him for the telltale flash of gold.   
  
"Tut, tut, tut." Draco's slimy-smooth voice came from behind him. "You really need to change tactic Potter." He scolded. "You're becoming terribly predictable."  
  
"You're the one who needs a new tactic. All you ever do is follow me."  
  
"Hey, I stick to what works."  
  
"I'd re-think that plan if I were you. It hasn't managed to work yet."  
  
"It's a new team you're playing today Potter. I'd watch my back if I were you."  
  
"'Specially if you're planning to fly behind me the whole match." Harry stopped suddenly causing Draco to knock into his back and almost loose hold of his Nimbus and then flying off before Draco could have a chance to complain.   
  
"Johnson spins, narrowly avoiding a Bludger, and our emerald clad Gryffindor's SCORE! Take that!"  
  
Angelina took a victory lap, arms in the air, trying to catch Fred's eye. He took no notice though as he smashed a Bludger towards the trailing Malfoy.   
  
Malfoy spun upside-down on his broomstick and Fred grinned triumphantly and sped off after the second Bludger shooting towards Donnalley, their Keeper.   
  
"Bell steals the Quaffle, drops to Ginny Weasley, the newest edition to the Chasing trio, and not a bad pick either. Getting rather attractive, she is . . ." Lee ducked as both Fred and George lobbed the Bludgers, with impeccable aim, at his head. "Nevermind." Lee mumbled into the megaphone from his crouched position at the edge of the Pitch. McGonagall didn't bother yelling at Lee and Madame Hootch issued no penalties, both believing Lee was finally getting his comeuppance.  
  
Ginny swooped by Harry, making for the goal hoops, her face as red as the Quaffle in her arms.  
  
"Hey, it's the Snitch." Malfoy's deep, sneering voice sounded from his left.  
  
"What?" Harry's head snapped around.  
  
"Maybe you should pay more attention to the game and not less to the girls." Malfoy sneered. "Not that I'm complaining though."  
  
"That's a new one." Harry yawned; feigning disinterest as he lay flat on his broom handle, chin on his hands. Malfoy scoffed and he didn't see Harry's sharp green eyes darting over the entirety of the Pitch.  
  
"Come on Potter. It's no fun to beat you unless you actually DO something."  
  
//You want fun Malfoy?// Harry thought vehemently. //Alright, I'll give you fun.// Still lying flat Harry dropped the front end of his broom vertical to the Pitch and headed into a suicide dive straight towards the ground. The Wronski Feint.  
  
Harry ignored the practically visible scowl from Malfoy as he zipped after him believing his sighting of the Snitch. Harry let a rare malicious smile crease his face as he sped through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. //Beat this Pretty-Boy.//  
  
Pulling up at the last second, his elbows just skimming the finely cut grass, he spiraled back into the air just in time to see Malfoy collide with the ground.  
  
Lee's voice finally penetrated the cloud of Harry's consciousness with a: "Great Feint there Potter, hope you knocked some sense into the slimy bloke."  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
"My apologies Professor!"  
  
"That was bloody brilliant Harry!" Fred bellowed across the Pitch, swinging his beater's club in the air above his head. "That's the best Feint I've ever seen!"  
  
"Even better then Viktor Krum at the Cup last year." Ginny said quietly, flying up behind him.  
  
"Thanks." Harry could feel his cheeks tinge. //This is new.//   
  
"Malfoy is back as play resumes." Lee sighed into the megaphone.  
  
Malfoy soared up beside the green-haired boy, the thick stripe of scarlet running down the middle of his face matching the blood from his nose perfectly. "Try it again Potter and you won't live to see morning." He hissed, bringing a scarlet cloaked arm to his face and wiping at his nose---he hadn't let anyone clean him up---and thus leaving a red smear across the gold lining his cheeks. "But then again, you might not anyway."   
  
A deep growl escaped Harry's chest when his eye caught a sharp glint of gold in the dark sky hovering above them. Malfoy had seen it too as the sky exploded in a shattering quake of thunder and lightning and an explosion of red rain. In an instant their eyes darted to one another, disregarding the blood-red downpour, and back to the Snitch before they smashed upwards toward the glint of gold.  
  
Harry had never felt anything so exhilarating and terrifying in his entire life. He could feel magic coursing though his veins, magic pounding in his eardrums, and curdling his blood---and he liked it. Power. He only vaguely registered the red rain and a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondering why he could still see.   
  
But then he saw Malfoy, and both boys, knowing full well that their broomsticks would be of no further help in the ensuing battle, leapt free from their confining magical objects and into the air with only one thought: //Get the Snitch.//  
  
Ten fingers intertwined around the fluttering golden ball as the two teenage bodies collided with each other nearly a hundred feet in the air. Harry and Draco clung to on another as they fell, an arm hooked around the other boy's back, legs wrapped around each other---one hand still clawing at the Snitch. The two boys crashed into Curtis Saunders twenty feet above the Pitch.  
  
They spun towards the ground, Draco trying desperately to position Harry underneath himself to break the fall and Harry, a surge of unexplainable protectiveness sweeping over him, trying to get under Draco to cushion the blonde's fall.   
  
Both failed, though, as Draco's back slammed first into the Pitch. All the air was knocked from the Slytherin's lungs as Harry crashed on top of him sending both boys skidding through the muddy grass.   
  
Miraculously, and to the two Seeker's, and the crowd's, complete astonishment, neither boy had let go of the Snitch.  
  
"Are you . . . alright?" Harry panted, crawling to his feet and still hanging onto the game-winning ball.  
  
"I'm fine Potter." Malfoy choked out, using the hand still holding onto the Snitch and Harry he pulled himself to his feet. "Let go of the Snitch Potter." He tried in vain to pull his hand free from Harry's. Neither heard the stampeding footsteps or the shrieks of fright.  
  
"No. I had it first." He pulled back.  
  
"Give me a break, Scar-Face." Yank.  
  
"Get a clue Ferret-Boy." He snarled, pulling his hand back even harder.  
  
"Same time?" Malfoy offered, only the tiniest smirk curling the corners of his mouth.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"One . . ." His left hand curled into a fist at his side. "Two . . . three!" And his fist collided with Harry's jaw. Harry stumbled backwards, not letting go of the Snitch. He wasn't stupid. He brought his right hand to his lip, he could taste blood.  
  
"You little . . ." He snarled, bringing his hand back and smashing it into Malfoy's perfect pointed nose.   
  
Malfoy blinked away the pain clouding his eyes and lunged at Harry, knocking him into the muck. Harry threw up his arms to block the barrage of punches from the dripping red boy. The Snitch was long gone.  
  
But his arms needn't have been there.   
  
Malfoy jerked back as someone grabbed the collar of his robes and threw him to the ground. Harry jumped up to see Ron towering over the Slytherin.  
  
Draco leapt to his feet and, even under the circumstances, Harry was forced to admit that Malfoy had good fighting form. His fists were up and cocked, ready to unleash a flurry of punches at Ron the moment he came within range.   
  
"Don't do anything foolish Ron!" Hermione screamed over a fresh howl of thunder, grabbing one of the arms hanging by his sides. He shook her off, never taking his eyes from his target.  
  
Draco lunged at Ron, swinging an impressive combination of punches . . . right jab, left jab, right roundhouse, left haymaker. Not a single one connected, and Ron wasn't even backing away. Malfoy opened up his left side and Ron jumped at the opportunity. Ron swung his hand at Malfoy. His fist connected with his face and with a sickening crack the blonde fell to the ground. Completely unconscious.   
  
  
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--  
  
A/N: Whoever doubted Draco was a lefty? Ohhh, I love him sooo much but that just had to happen! Big, bad, sexy Ron beating him up. Ohhh!  
Oh yeah, and the last part of the fight scene was inspired by the 'Spiderman' book by Peter David! 


	14. Chapter 14: Power

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
"There is no good and bad/light and dark, there is only Power . . . and those to weak to see it." ~~~Unknown  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
  
  
  
"Thanks," Harry managed out. "What's with the rain?"   
  
"No problem." Ron answered, massaging his knuckles.   
  
"We don't know Harry." Hermione said, visibly shaking. "We need to get back to the castle."   
  
"What about this bloke?" Ron kicked Malfoy in the side.  
  
"Bring him, we shouldn't leave him out in this." Hermione concluded, Harry shrugged. Ron flicked his wand at the fallen boy and began trudging their way back to the school with Malfoy floating in front of them---his feet dragging through the scarlet mud.  
  
  
  
"There you are!" Professor McGonagall sighed, rushing up to the quartet. "Where have you been and why didn't you come inside when Jordan announced the postponement?" //Good,// Harry thought, relieved. //She didn't see the fight.//  
  
"We went to find Harry." Ron said immediately.  
  
"What happened to Mister Malfoy!" she exclaimed, finally taking notice of the cataleptic Slytherin.  
  
"He hit the ground when they went for the snitch." Hermione lied expertly. "They didn't hear the announcement Professor."  
  
"The Headmaster wishes to see you Potter." She sighed again. "I'll take Malfoy to the Hospital wing." She looked over the three, twitched her wand at Malfoy and strode out of sight.  
  
"We're going with you." Ron and Hermione said immediately.  
  
  
  
  
"Are you going up to the hospital wing?" Ginny panted, having run through the majority of the school in search of her brother.  
  
"Why?" Ron said, peering down at his sister.  
  
"You didn't see?"  
  
"See what?"  
  
"Fred was injured in the match."  
  
"WHEN?"   
  
"Right before they announced the postponement. He got hit in the head with a Bludger. He was bleeding so much. I . . . I didn't want to go up there by myself and I couldn't find you!"  
  
"It's alright Ginny." Hermione soothed her younger friend. "We have to see Dumbledore, Ginny. Ron, go---""  
  
"Come on Ginny," Harry interrupted, pushing past his two friends and taking the red-head's arm. "You're coming with us."  
  
"Harry," Ron made a feeble attempt to argue.  
  
"Come ON." Harry stated, wearing his 'Don't even try arguing with me' face as he lead Ginny down the corridor to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. "Does anyone know the pass---?"  
  
"Acid-pop." Hermione said promptly only to have Ron and Harry shoot her bewildered looks as the great gargoyle jumped to the side. "Prefect, remember?" Both nodded and rushed up the moving staircase.  
  
"Professor?" Harry said quietly, pushing open the office door and peeking around its edge.  
  
"Come in Mister Potter, Weasley, Miss Granger." His eyes twinkled as he spotted Ginny. "Alas, I forgot Miss Weasley." His face fell as he caught sight of the bleeding Harry.  
  
"Oh, I hit the Pitch," Harry lied, touching his black eye and bloody nose self-consciously. "I'm fine."  
  
"That's good to hear." He pursued it no further. "Why don't you sit down?" He gestured to the chairs before his desk; they seated themselves as Dumbledore began to speak once again. "Do you know what happened out there today?"  
  
"I know I shouldn't have h---"" Harry exploded in a rush of guilt.  
  
"Do you mean the rain Professor?" Hermione interrupted loudly.  
  
"Yes Miss Granger." His eyes stayed locked on Harry.  
  
"Where did it come from?" Harry asked, running an emerald hand through his dripping emerald spikes.  
  
"Did you feel anything Harry? Right before the storm began?"  
  
"Yes." Harry said slowly, quietly.  
  
"What did you feel?" He said just as quietly. He didn't answer. "Harry?"  
  
"Pomader." He muttered.  
  
"Harry?" Hermione touched his arm lightly.  
  
"Power. Energy." He stumbled over his words. He took a deep breath and started over. "It was like I was on fire---but not like the Crutacious Curse. It was as if I was suddenly aware of every molecule of myself for the first time. I've felt it before, but not like this. It was just a fraction of what I felt today, and years ago. When I was just coming into my magic."  
  
"What's your favourite colour Harry?"  
  
"Scarlet, well Gryffindor red anyway."  
  
"What were you feeling when it started?"   
  
"I was mad and---wait a second, you're not saying what I think you're saying. Are you?" Dumbledore gave a slight nod. "I didn't cause that!" He jumped from his seat so quickly he upended his chair. His outburst was accompanied by a defining thunder-clap and a flaring up of the torches and candles around the perimeter of the room.  
  
"Sit down Harry." Dumbledore said calmly, offering no room to argue. "I am not angry with you. To tell you the truth, I've been expecting this for quite some time."  
  
"What?" Harry set his chair back up and slouched into his seat.  
  
"Harry, what are you?"  
  
"A wizard." He answered hesitantly.  
  
"Yes, and no."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You are a Mage, Harry." The elder wizard folded his hands calmly on his desk whilst the children reacted in a much different manner. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, Ron nearly fell out of his chair, and Ginny was gripping the armrests of her own so tightly her knuckles were turning white.  
  
"I'm a what?"  
  
"How?" Ron choked out, his voice thicker then usual. "But there hasn't been a fully fledged Mage in ages."  
  
"I assume you know of your father's Animagus abilities Harry?" He gave a slight nod. "They taught themselves that, So very bright . . ." He seemed to be talking more to himself now then the students. "He was a Mage, Harry, to a very slight degree; as was you mother."  
  
"Why weren't they recorded then Professor? You _have _ to register." Hermione insisted pointedly.   
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, my dear, you do have to register. But you must remember the times. There was a war going on. One does not want to advertise such a thing."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Harry demanded, shattering the smile playing along the thin lines of Dumbledore's, mouth.   
  
"It was decided that you were to find out when you came into your abilities."  
  
"I've been turning wigs blue for years. You could have told me."  
  
"What wig did you turn blue Harry?" Ron smiled slyly over at him, slightly brightening Harry's mood.  
  
"A teacher's in primary school."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore smiled, drawing Harry back. "Do you understand what this means?"  
  
"Not particularly."  
  
"Harnessed wandless magic Harry!" Hermione grinned ratherenviously.  
  
"Yes, eventually," Dumbledore quieted the Prefect. "But right now, Harry, your abilities seem to be manifesting themselves through your anger. With practice and training you may be able to control them."  
  
"May?"  
  
"You will with the right amount of diligence on your part. You cannot quit on us Harry."  
  
"I never have before."  
  
  
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       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
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The next one should be out soon!!!  
PLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	15. Chapter 15: Brothers

Xenith  
  
  
  
"For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother tomorrow."  
~~~William Shakespeare  
  
  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"I never have before."  
  
  
  
They must have sat there examining one another for a good five minuets before Ron finally became too anxious to sit still and he broke in: "If there's not anything else Professor?"  
  
"You three may leave, I just need a moment with Mr Potter."  
  
"You want us to wait?" Ron hissed at Harry.  
  
"No, I'll meet you there." Ron nodded and Hermione patted his shoulder encouragingly as they passed out of the office, Ginny in tow.  
  
"What else Professor?"  
  
"I want to give you something." Dumbledore strode across the room to the cabinet Harry knew held the Pensieve. But the Pensieve isn't what came out.  
  
It was a sword. _Godric's_ sword.  
  
"You are to have this Harry." He stated simply, holding out the grand weapon to the fifteen year-old.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"This yours now Harry. You have reached you time."  
  
"Professor," Harry protested, standing from his chair. "But that's Gryffindor's. Shouldn't the school keep it? Put it on display in the common room or something?"  
  
"This is not my decision."  
  
"Then whose was it?"  
  
"There are certain things that are destined, Harry. Set down to be carried out when the time is right."  
  
"I don't NEED a sword." Harry said matter-of-factly. Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"I know." Still, he held out the sword.  
  
Harry took a hesitant step closer to his teacher, his hand itching slowly towards the glistening hilt. His hand halted in midair, millimeters away from the tarnished silver. His fingers twitched, convulsing, before the strong fingers closed around the hilt, lifting the sword from Dumbledore's frail hands.   
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey," Harry panted as he reached the hospital wing, having run back to the Gryffindor dormitories to hide Godric's sword. "How is he?" He asked Ron.  
  
"Pomfrey says he'll be fine." Ron replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But George nearly had a nervous breakdown when she first said he might not wake up for a while. Scared the shite out of him."  
  
"When'll he be up?"  
  
"A week, maybe more."  
  
"Oh . . . where is George anyway?"  
  
"Pomfrey gave him a sleeping draught and made him lie down." Ron nodded at the curtained bed next to Fred's. "Surprisingly enough, this is the worst injury either one of them's ever had---George's lost without him; doesn't know what to do with himself."  
  
"I wouldn't either." Harry said softly so only Ron could hear.  
  
"What?" Ron turned his eyes down to the slightly smaller boy.  
  
"You heard me you pillock." Ron grinned.  
  
"I feel the same mate. I feel the same."   
  
"Is Malfoy in there?" Harry nodded to the third curitined off bed at the far end of the wing.  
  
"Yeah, made sure to keep him away from Fred 'n George."  
  
"Hermione?" Harry hissed at the bushy haired girl all of a sudden, having remembered his gift.  
  
"What?" She turned from Ginny, slightly peeved at having been interrupted.  
  
"Come help me with my Potions assignment?"  
  
"What Pot---"  
  
"Yeah Herm, come see what Harry's having trouble with." Ron said sternly.  
  
"Don't call me 'Herm' Ron; it makes me sound like a germ." She grumbled, catching on.  
  
"Yeah yeah." Ron waved her off. "Will you stay here for a while then Gin?"  
  
"Yeah." Ginny nodded, eyeing Harry suspiciously.  
  
"Bye Ginny." Hermione waved.  
  
"See you later Ginny." Harry said softly, reassuring the younger girl and making her blush to the roots of her hair from the smile he'd thrown her.  
  
  
  
  
"He gave you a sword!?" Ron exclaimed  
  
"Has Dumbledore gone completely mad?" Hermione said quietly. "What could possibly compel him to give you a sword?"  
  
"He said certain things are set down to be carried out when the time is right."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked; his eyes still glued to the weapon. "Can I touch it Harry?" His freckled hand hovered over the tarnished, glimmering hilt.  
  
"No," Ron's hand dropped to his side. "Sorry Ron. Dumbledore said 'Only my blood brother may use it in battle with me.'"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean? You don't have a brother."  
  
"I know."  
  
"`Brother' refers to your best mate. The man whom you trust over all others." The All-Knowing-Hermione Granger answered superiorly. "The 'blood' part means that your mate will only be able to touch the sword after the two of you have shed blood in battle with one another."  
  
"Against each other?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good."  
  
"How do you know all that?" Ron asked.  
  
"You really need to check out the library sometime Ron." Hermione sighed.  
  
  
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       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
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	16. Chapter 16: Head over Heels

Xenith  
  
  
  
"To live is like love, all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it." ~~~Samuel Butler  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Sixteen  
  
  
A/N: This chapter takes place roughly a week and a half later, and yes, the Quidditch teams are still green and scarlet. Enjoy!!! *cough*review*cough*  
  
  
  
  
  
Fred blinked back a pounding headache in the bright lights of the sterile Hospital Wing. Everything was blotchy and he couldn't discern the dark shape before him but he WAS acutely aware of the hand stroking his head---the fingers dancing their way through his hair.  
  
As the figure came into greater prominance Fred recognized her. Chris hadn't seemed to have realized that he was awake though. She was staring intently at her fingers and the way the pink and brown of the scars there contrasted so highly with the current green and silver of his hair.  
  
"Hmmm . . ." She mused aloud to herself. Fred watched as she bit her bottom lip in concentration. He'd never been watched so closely, that he knew of anyway, and he rather enjoyed it. Fred closed his eyes again as the girl's hand began to move away from his hair. He felt a finger trace slowly down the center of his forehead and over the bridge of his nose causing his freckles to tingle. The rough tip followed a path down and over the end of his nose to the upper portion of his lips. The finger paused only for a moment before sliding to the lower lip. Fred shuddered involuntarily as the touch followed the full of his bottom lip before slipping down over his chin. Her hand rubbed the back of his neck, his skin felt electrified. Having her touch him again made him remember the last time he'd kissed her.  
  
Fred groaned and rolled a little, the pain in his head returning in full measure as the soft pressure on his lips ceased. The fingers on his neck immediately detached themselves. Fred blinked once again in the newfound light as Chris came back into sharp focus.   
  
"Welcome back." She laughed quietly. Fred yawned in reply, stretching his aching limbs for the first time in what felt like years. "You were out for nearly half the week. Almost broke Mr Potter's record, you did."  
  
"When did you get here?" He asked sitting up in the hospital bed.  
  
"A few minuets ago." She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall---it had been the better part of an hour.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Mister Malfoy has been up for two days."  
  
"Well I'm going to be hearing about that for the next century."  
  
"Miss Johnson will be happy to hear you've recovered." She took a noticeable step backwards. "She's been in hysterics."  
  
"Who? Angelina---what?" Fred had completely forgotten about his supposed girlfriend.  
  
"Angelina's been---" She began to repeat.  
  
"No. Never-mind. Just took a moment longer to process than usual." Fred rubbed his forehead. "I'm surprised she even noticed I was gone."  
  
"What? Doesn't she care about you?"  
  
//She's not the one here, now is she?// "Sometimes I wonder."   
  
"Are you okay?" She stepped back to him.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my head."  
  
"Should I get Poppy?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Madame Pomfrey. Should I get her?"  
  
"No!" Fred grabbed her hand, wanting to keep her there even more than the fact that he didn't want any more medication. (The Weasley twins weren't one's for doctors.) "No I'm fine. Really." He left his hand on top of hers. Chris' eyes darted nervously to his freckled hand but she didn't move.  
  
"So, how have you liked my classes so far?" She finally asked.  
  
The sentence brought Fred back to the reality that she was his substitute teacher. "Fine," He moved his hand from hers and swung his legs off the bed. "It's weird, when you teach it, dragons don't seem as terrifying as when Hagrid does." Fred stood, stretched completely, and began searching for his robes.  
  
"They're in the drawer." Chris said automatically, indicating the bedside table. //So she's been here before has she?// Fred thought happily to himself while removing his school robes from the bureau.  
  
Chris turned immediately as Fred started to change. "I should leave."  
  
"No, wait for me. I'll be done in a second." Fred said, zipping up his grey trousers. He pulled on the white shirt, leaving the top buttons undone, pulled his vest over his head and left his Gryffindor tie undone around his neck before he finally put his worn black school robes over it all. He stood there, behind Chris, when he'd finished, studying the loose hairs beneath her ragged pony tail.   
  
"Are you done yet Fred?"  
  
"Yes." He breathed.  
  
Startled at the closeness of his voice, she spun on the spot, they were now nearly nose-to-nose (Fred wasn't one of the tallest of the Weasley men). Chris was breathing heavily and looking more nervous than Fred had ever seen her. His eyes darted from hers to her lips and his body made up its mind before his brain even had a chance to process what was happening.   
  
He was kissing her. One hand holding her at her waist while the other had managed behind her head. She didn't resist but rather wound her arms around his back. He pressed her against his chest, hanging onto her for dear life, as he hesitantly parted her lips with his tongue. She opened easily with encouraging little thrumming purrs at the back of her throat.  
  
  
  
When they finally pulled away, gasping for air, Fred was instantly grateful for the curtains shielding the hospital bed.  
  
"That was wrong." Chris muttered, more to herself than Fred. She dodged out of Fred's embrace and the curtains and made for the Hospital Wing's exit before Fred could stop her.   
  
"No! Wait!" Fred ran after her, trying to pull the worn trainers he'd forgotten earlier onto his feet. He managed to catch her outside the doorway. "Chris, what's wrong?"  
  
"We can't keep doing this Fred." She pulled away from him again and ducked under the nearest tapestry.  
  
"Was it the kiss?" He followed her through the tapestry.  
  
"Let's not talk about it." She jumped the steps three at a time.   
  
"Was it me?" He paused halfway down the staircase. Chris turned and looked up to him.  
  
"I have to go." And she disappeared though a turned stone into another passage.  
  
"Bullocks." Fred muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way up to Gryffindor tower.  
  
  
---  
  
  
"`Lo Fred." George greeted his brother without looking up from the History of Magic homework he was copying from Lee.   
  
"What's wrong mate?" Lee asked Fred, bouncing onto his four-poster on his stomach.  
  
"Huh?" George looked up from his work. "Wait, why are you here? Pomfrey said you weren't going to be up for another two days."  
  
"Yeah, well, I just had fairly a pleasant awakening." He fell back onto his bed, lying spread-eagled with his feet propped up on the headboard and his head hanging off the end.  
  
"By who?" George pushed his plagiarised homework aside and ran his hand, still green from before the Quidditch match, through his short emerald spikes. "I thought Angelina was---"  
  
"Wasn't Angelina." Fred moaned, closing his eyes and massaging his temples with the heels of his hands.  
  
"You didn't?"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Did what?" Lee propped himself up on his elbows.  
  
"How could you Fred?"  
  
"I don't know? Hormones?"   
  
"You can't Fred, you know what she is!"  
  
"She's incredible." Fred let his arms drop and opened his eyes to find his brother, upside-down, and perched on the edge of the homework strewn table.   
  
"You can't do this to Angelina."  
  
"Stop." Lee jumped off his bed and towered over Fred. "What'd you do."  
  
"I think you mean 'who'."  
  
"Shudd-up George. It just happened."  
  
"You just fell on top of her, right?"  
  
"It wasn't like that!" Fred swung his legs over his head and flipped off his bed, glaring down at his seated brother. "Just a bit of snogging! That's all!"  
  
"Oh, sorry." He held his hands up defensively. "So you just fell on her lips then?"  
  
"You have TWO girls pining after you?" Lee interrupted, pointing angrily at Fred  
  
"Neither is _pining_ . . ."  
  
"She can't keep her hands off him, and vice-versa." George muttered.  
  
"Which?" Lee asked.  
  
"Chris Jameson."  
  
"Professor Jameson?!"  
  
"Way to keep your mouth shut George." He sunk back into his bed and threw a pillow at his brother."  
  
  
"You're serious?" Lee sat back down, eyes wide.  
  
"Yeah," Fred sighed, raking his fingers through hair. "She's incredible."  
  
"You've never said anything like that about Angelina." George said softly.  
  
"I know."  
  
  
---  
  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	17. Chapter 17: The Patornus

Xenith  
  
  
  
"To live is like love, all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it."  
~~~Samuel Butler  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
  
  
A/N: The classes I now envision happen to consist of all four houses in one class period. I figured this out when I constructed a course schedule for all of our main characters and realised that there are not enough teachers in the school to have it any other way. Anyway, I seem to be rambling, all I'm saying is that they are all together. ENJOY!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
i`You must learn to use it Harry, or it will be of no use to you.'  
  
`How am I supposed to learn?'  
  
`You've had Defense Against the Dark Arts I presume?'  
  
`Yes.'  
  
`And your Professor?'  
  
`She used to be my old neighbour, lots of cats.'  
  
`She will teach you if you will learn.'  
  
`I'll learn.'/i  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The words still rang in Harry's ears as he made his way exhausted and sweaty, through the dark corridors to his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  
  
Quidditch practice. Katie just HAD to have practice _tonight_. His first night of training with the Professor and he was almost too tired to even carry the sword.  
  
Harry had had to dash from the Quidditch Pitch to Gryffindor common room to gather the sword and hide it beneath his invisibility cloak, change, and make his way out of the common room without attracting any attention. All in seven and a half minutes.  
  
"You're late Mr Potter." Professor Figg said quietly from the shadowy alcove beside her classroom.  
  
"Thirty seconds?" He panted.  
  
"Forty-two." Harry waved her off as he crossed into her room and slumped into his usual back row seat.  
  
"Punctuality, Harry, your first lesson."   
  
"I thought I was here to learn how to fight."  
  
"Among other things."  
  
"What things?" He set the sword on the seat beside him and slouched forward on his knees, scrutinising his former elderly neighbour.  
  
She was so different now, or seemed to be at least. She stood strong and proud, her head held high, her hands hiding deep within her robes.  
  
"You'll learn in time young one." He nodded. "Quidditch practice tonight Harry?"  
  
"Yeah." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and leant back in his chair, effectively cracking his back and stretching his sore limbs.   
  
"Well, best be to it then." She cleared the desks with a wave of her wand and motioned Harry into the center of the room, sheathed sword in hand.  
  
Professor Figg shed her heavy, confining, outer robes to reveal pale trousers, a loose over-shirt, and a sword strapped to her back. "This," she turned her back to Harry, "Is the best and most efficient way to carry your weapon." She turned back to him. "Turn 'round Harry, and hold your sword out to your side." He did as he was told. Figg twitched her wand at the sword and it jumped from his hand, straps buckling about his chest and abdomen, twining and tightening as the weapon sunk into place between his shoulder blades. "Heavy?"  
  
"Just a bit."  
  
"You'll get used to it. Trust me, soon it will be like a third arm, you'll feel lost without it." He nodded. "Now, keep your arms still at your sides, look straight ahead, and don't fidget." He complied. "This is a focus exercise, Harry. If you're doing it right I should not be able to break your concentration." Harry began to feel uncomfortable as she commenced circling him, stopping square in front of him and muttering in the creaky old voice she used to use when she watched him in the summers. "Harry Potter, you scurvy little boy," She rasped, immediately shattering his focus with a snort of laughter. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," she laughed with him in her hoarse tongue. "Now that just won't do Harry Potter." She broke away from the voice. "Again."  
  
He focused again. She broke it.  
  
Again. Broken.  
  
Again. Broken.  
  
  
  
  
Harry finally managed to focus through the Professor's inane rambling, granted it was two hours later, but still . . . "Good job Harry." She crowed. "Take a minute and we can move onto some sword training."   
  
Harry slumped into one of the desks. "That's so bloody hard . . ." He groaned, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his head.  
  
"It'll get easier."  
  
  
  
  
It didn't. EVERYthing got harder.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"There you are Harry!" Ron jumped from his seat with Hermione where they were sitting finishing their homework (well, Hermione as doing her work, Ron was trying to distract her with his less than witty charm while he copied hers). "We were going to look for you if you hadn't showed up by midnight."  
  
"What took so long?" Ron pulled Hermione to her feet and managed to slip her completed paper into his pocket without her noticing. "The team was back ages ago."  
  
"I know, and I promise to tell you two everything", Harry replied, pulling off his white sweat drenched tee-shirt even as he made his way over to the stairs to the boys' dormitories. The only other two students occupying the common burst into a furious bout of giggles at the sight of a half-naked Harry Potter. Harry blushed furiously and dashed up the stairwell.  
  
"Lavender!" Parvati squealed, slapping her friend on the arm.  
  
"Don't tell me you wouldn't?!" She squealed back, covering her mouth with her hands. Parvati giggled like mad and both headed up to the girls' dormitories, a squeal echoing down at them.  
  
"That's pathetic." Hermione grumbled, turning back to Ron. But the red-haired boy was gone. With her homework. "Augh, prat." She groaned, gathering up her and Ron's books and making her way to her room and Parvati and Lavender.  
  
  
  
"You can't tell me that didn't make you swoon Hermione!" Lavender said the moment she entered the 5th year girls dormitory.  
  
"It didn't make me swoon." She stacked her's and Ron's books carefully on a shelf beneath her bed-side table and pulled her night shirt from her trunk. A giant, knee-length, violently orange, _Chudley Cannons _ tee-shirt Ron had given her for her birthday ("They'll make a come back, Hermione. You just wait and see."). She grinned at the thought.  
  
"Ohhh, that's right," Parvati nudged Lavender in the side and with a collective plunk! Both sank onto the end of Hermione's bed. "You fancy Ron."  
  
"I do not." She slipped the shirt over her head at that instant, thankfully covering her blush.  
  
"Well, he fancies you at least." Lavender continued. "We saw him help you up tonight."  
  
"Yes, and then he stole my History of Magic assignment."   
  
"Ahhh, History of Magic." Parvati smirked, untold secrets dancing like wildfire across both of their faces.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"He needs your work because he hasn't been paying attention in class."  
  
"He never pays attention, he sleeps." She stated matter-of-factly, peering down at the two girls currently occupying her bed.  
  
"He hasn't been sleeping lately!" Lavender shrieked, bouncing with excitement.  
  
"You know how he and Harry---" (a squeal from Lavender) "---sit behind you? Well, Harry sleeps but Ron doesn't. He sits there, for the whole hour and a half, with his chin in his hand and his eyes positively GLUED to the back of you head."  
  
"It's sooo CUTE!"  
  
"He does NOT." Hermione protested, a flush creeping slowly into her cheeks. "Get up . . . out of my bed!" She snipped, snapping her fingers at the two bubbly girls. "Out! I want to go to sleep." Lavender and Parvati scrambled off of her bed and onto their own. She twitched the scarlet hangings closed and fell back into her pillows with a sigh.  
  
"Good night Hermione . . ." Parvati's sing-song voice floated across the room at her.  
  
"Hope your dreams are filled with Weasley's!!!" Hermione only caught a snatch of giggling before her Silencing Charm was cast and she snuggled under her heavy scarlet quilt. Content with whatever dreams decided to grace her with their presence.   
  
Lavender didn't know how right she was.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey Harry?" Ron said from his wardrobe, not turning to face Harry as he imerged from the loo, still dripping from the shower---only a fluffy white towel in his hand and a second wrapped tightly around his waist.  
  
"Yeah?" He tossed the towel he'd been using to dry his messy silver and emerald hair on the floor and knelt before his trunk.  
  
"What do you think of Hermione?" Still, he didn't turn.  
  
"She's great." He pulled his pyjam trousers and boxer-shorts from under Gilderoy Lockhart's 'Gadding with Ghouls'. Red ink had spilled over the cover, obscuring the sparkling photograph of Lockhart on the front. //I've got to get rid of those.// He thought, remembering their abysmal Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "I don't know what I'd do without her. Probably fail Potions." He pulled on his Snitch patterned, pale blue boxer-shorts over his muscular Slytherin-striped legs. "This damn green still won't come off." He muttered darkly, sliding into an old pair of Dudley's giant tartan pyjam bottoms. "Colin needs to get a picture of the team."  
  
"Oh, so you like her?" Ron's voice dropped considerably.  
  
"Who?" He balled up the two soaking towels and launched them through the open door and back into the bathroom.  
  
"Hermione. You like her then?"  
  
"Yeah I like her." The true meaning of Ron's words not sinking in. "She's one of my best friends. Why?" He didn't reply. "Oh!" Harry exclaimed, everything Ron had said finally sinking through his exercise warped brain. "No! Oh Ron, it's not like that---I don't fancy her or anything. She's like a sister to me. No more, I promise."  
  
"Oh, okay then." Ron turned, relief etched in his voice.  
  
Harry made it half-way to his bed before thinking of asking Ron what he'd meant. "Why did you want to know?"  
  
"Well," A flush as vibrant as his hair began to creep slowly up his neck towards his ears. "I'm thinking of . . . maybe . . . possibly . . . asking her to a butterbeer this Hogsmeade weekend."  
  
"Oh." Harry grinned to himself. "Right."  
  
"You think she'll say yes?"  
  
"We'll see," //Of course!// "We'll see."  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
FRIDAY of the following week  
  
  
  
  
"This," Chris explained, picking her way delicately around the massive worm as she spoke, "Is a Hydro Chem, they're the most common type of riding dragons." She snapped her tongue and the dragon unfurled its wings, stretching. "The undersides of their wings and bellies have some of the strongest chameleon, or chem., properties in the world." She continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "When you're up in the air on one of these beauties," She held one of his wings delicately in front of her toned frame and the bottom half of her body immediately 'disappeared'. "You're invisible to the world."  
  
"But the problem that you'll find with these worms is," Mat began only to be interrupted by Angelina.  
  
"Why do you two keep calling them worms? They don't seem very worm-like to me."  
  
Mat ignored her completely and Chris made none of her usual attempts to answer. "That they take off and you can't find'em." He dug into one of the pockets of the leather armour he was wearing, instead of the usual linen, and pulled out a slick pair of sunglasses. "But that's where being a wizard comes in handy. Enchantawear has just come out with these." He held up the shades for all to see. He tapped his wand on the frames and the lenses flashed red and he slid them over his eyes. These babies work in exactly the same manner as the bulky ones Chris always insists on wearing---""  
  
"I like mine perfectly well, thank you very much!" She snapped from inside the shed that had been erected next to Hagrid's hut.  
  
"Anyway, I just wanted to show them off, I'm not very into this whole 'Teacher/Student' thing." There were a few laughs at the comment as Chris emmerged from the shed, now clothed in her own well worn leather garments and somehow managing to carry two other bulky sets.  
  
"I'm fine, you don't need to help Mat." She muttered, dumping the jumble of ancient leather garments on the ground at his feet.  
  
"I wasn't planning on it." He pulled a cigarette from a rectangular pocket, which seemed specially designed for that exact purpose, and lit the end of it.  
  
"How considerate." His only reply was three indigo smoke rings curling menacingly towards her. "I need two volunteers." She announced, rubbing her palms together eagerly. "Who wants to ride one of these beauties with Mat?" Fred took no notice of the girl's enthusiasm; his eyes glued to the hole in the grass he'd been working on for the better portion of the class. "Okay Miss Johnson, come up here and Mat will help you put on your suit." Angelina practically skipped up to him. "And one more to ride with me." No one raised their hands. "Nobody?"  
  
"I'll do it," Fred said quietly, keeping his head down.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes," He looked up to her; she was surprisingly pale and looked almost scared of him. "I can do it." He stepped forward, his hands in his pockets.  
  
"Alright." She said quietly, some of the color coming back into her cheeks. "Eddie! Come here, you have to teach the class while we're in the air!" The boy ran over and she turned her attention back to the red-head before her. "Here," she handed him a pair of loose, worn, leather trousers. "Put them on."   
  
"Why are you mad at me?" He demanded, pulling on the leather over his existing trousers.  
  
"Fred, we can't…"she offered half-heartedly, removing his billowing black school robes.  
  
"Can't what?"  
  
"Can't be having this conversation." He tugged a brown leather jacket over his shoulders and she began tying up the front for him.  
  
"Chris---" He plead.  
  
"You have a girlfriend Fred." She said reasonably her arms threading around his waist as she secured one of the many straps to his trousers.  
  
"Chris---"  
  
"I'm a professor here." She pushed a pair of goggles into his hands.  
  
"You're sixteen!"  
  
"That doesn't matter." She slid a glove onto his left hand, strapping it onto the cuff of the jacket.  
  
"I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen!"  
  
"I know, Fred, but we can't." She muttered, her fingers brushing over his hand before she brought the right glove over his hand and latched it to the cuff.  
  
"Are you attracted to me?" He asked no trace of a smile on the usually giddy face.  
  
"What?" She exclaimed, astonishment etched across her face, her hand stopping half-way to her back pocket.   
  
"You heard me Chris."  
  
"I'm not answering that." She pulled two black cigarettes from her bum pocket, sticking both in her mouth.  
  
"Are you?" He demanded.  
  
"Rack off, here." She handed him a lit cigarette, taking a long drag off her own.   
  
"Why?" The black cigarette sufficiently distracting him, for the moment at least.  
  
"It coats your lungs against the smoke and such, remember?"   
  
"Oh yeah." He inhaled the smoke hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence and vigor when he found it didn't make him cough. He could feel the magic working its way into his lungs. The organ tissue eagerly accepting the sealant.  
  
"Do you feel all tingly inside?"  
  
"Yes." He hiccoughed. Chris laughed, Fred scowled.  
  
"Don't . . ." She said quietly, touching his face for a moment before realising what she was doing. "Are you two ready, Chris? Weasley?" Mat interrupted, seeing, and having heard, the exchange.  
  
"Yes Mat." She plucked the cigarette from the twin's mouth and dropped it on the ground with her own, stepping on it with her leather clad foot. "Step on the crook of his wing. Yes there, where the wing meets the body." Fred placed his foot and swung his left leg over the dragon and into the harness and watched as Chris darted around the beast securing him to the double saddle and then swinging herself in front of him. "See those long straps on each side of you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Hook them 'round my waist." He slid his arms around her torso, taking great care to run his hands along her sides, as he secured the final strap. He rested his gloved hands on her thighs as she ran her hands along her dragon's wide neck.  
  
"Stop it Fred." She muttered. "You can't, WE can't."  
  
"I'm just hanging on." She didn't reply and he left his hands.  
  
"Helmets!" Eddie threw two green-brown helmets to Chris. She caught them effortlessly and shoved one onto her head.  
  
"Here." She thrust the second into his lap, forcing him to move his hands. He put on the helmet, strapped it 'round his neck, and wrapped his arms around her stomach.  
  
She tensed under his touch, he held her all the tighter.  
  
"We're taking off." She announced, her voice only the slightest bit shaky. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Always." Fred watched in awe as her leathered hands slid beneath two scales the size of dinner plates and she closed her eyes, calling up a low, powerful thrumming noise from deep within her centre. The thrumming purred out of her pursed lips, reaching an almost unbearable crescendo when it stopped. The dragon was in the air, moving higher and higher, soaring over the lake.  
  
"You never answered me." Fred finally said when he'd gotten over the initial shock of dragon riding.  
  
"Hmmm?" She whispered evasively.  
  
"Are you attracted to me Chris? I need to know." She landed the dragon on a small flat portion of the castle's rooftop. The worm began to fold his wings down but a sharp whistle from Chris caused the wings to stay erect. Privacy. "Answer me Chris."  
  
"Yes Fred! Is that what you want?" She demanded detaching herself from the red-head and turning about in the saddle.  
  
"Then why can't we do this? Damn-it Chris, I just don't get it."  
  
"I'm a Professor, Fred. It's not allowed."   
  
"I'm almost two years older than you!"  
  
"You have a girlfriend!"  
  
"That can change!"  
  
"Do you love her?"  
  
Fred didn't even have to think about it. "No."  
  
"Do you know what it is you want? What you'd be getting into if we started something?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're willing to risk expulsion?" A nod. "Even a professional Quidditch contract?"  
  
"Completely."  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
"The Patronus," Professor Figg announced to her fifth year Defense class. "Is a very complex and _distinctive_ spell. It is highly advanced magic and well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. Can anyone tell me what the word 'Patronus' means?" Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Yes Hermione?"  
  
"Patronus: Latin for protector. Derived from the same root as patro, to accomplish, and pater, father. It is something of an anti-dementor, a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor. If your charm is one-hundred percent successful the Patronus will chase the dementor away." Sounding, as usual, like she had swallowed the text book.  
  
"Very good, do you have anything else you would like to add?" Hermione grinned.  
  
"The Patronus is a positive force, a projection of the very things dementors feed upon---ie, hope happiness and the desire to survive. But it can't feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors have no effect upon them."  
  
"What is the spell used to conjure a Patronus?"  
  
"Expecto Patronum." Malfoy muttered from across the room before Hermione had a chance to raise her hand.  
  
"Exactly Mr Malfoy. Would you like to demonstrate for us?" She crossed her arms over her chest and perched on the edge of her desk at the side of the room.  
  
"No." He replied, not looking up from his writing   
  
"It's too bad you feel that way. To the front please." Draco dropped his quill and sauntered to the front of the class, crossing his arms behind his back and waiting for further instruction. "Let's make this interesting, shall we?" No-one replied, all having had too much experience with 'interesting' Defense classes. "I have it on good authority that you can conjure a pretty fair Patronus Potter. To the front." She nodded for him to stand beside Malfoy. "Who else would like to give it a try? Fifty points to the house that can construct the best one." Still no volunteers. "I shall choose then. Miss Brocklehurst?" The pretty, brown-haired Ravenclaw shook her head furiously, her tight chocolate curls shaking like mad. "You'll be okay, it's not very hard." Ron was surprised to see both Harry and Ferret-boy roll their eyes skyward as the tiny fifteen year-old scurried towards the two, seemingly towering, boys. "And . . . how about you, Mr Finch-Fletchley?" Justin's already large, brown sleepy eyes went the size of saucers in his white face as the teacher motioned for him to join the three students at the front.   
  
Ron honestly didn't blame those two for not wanting to go up against the two enemies. It was common knowledge that Harry and Malfoy both had the power and magical _prowess_ to be the top of the school if it wasn't for their deep enmity for one another and the rules encompassing their school. They didn't stand a chance.  
  
"You produce a Patronus with an incantation which will only work if you are concentrating with all of your being on a solitary, very happy memory. I'd like you each to think of one now. And class, you need to be doing this too, each of you will need to put forth your best effort to produce a Patronus eventually." The tiny Ravenclaw to Harry's left caught her bottom lip between her teeth and clamped her eyes shut, thinking with all her might. Justin's eyes darted from left to right, trying desperately to think of the happiest moment in his life. Harry did nothing, finding that, in the past, he had always produced the best Patronus' on the spur of the moment.  
  
Malfoy scoffed at the two and muttered under his breath to Harry: "What, not panicking Potter? This is different." Harry tried his best to ignore the blonde's snide comments. "Since when can you produce a Patronus?" He ignored him, implementing Figg's focus exercise to block out the infuriating Slytherin. He could have sworn he saw her smile at him.  
  
"Does everyone have something?" A vague smattering of nods and quiet yes'. "And you four?" Nods. "Good. You first Mr Finch-Fletchley, you first. Do you remember the spell?" The boy didn't reply, he was mouthing the spell over and over again to himself. "You may begin whenever you're ready Justin."   
  
Justin closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held his wand out in front of him. His eyes snapped open. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He shouted, a thin slip of silvery mist escaped the end of his wand forming something that vaguely resembled the Whomping Willow.  
  
"Very good Justin!" Professor Figg clapped for the Hufflepuff. "Excellent first try. You may take your seat while we see how the others fair." Justin nearly ran back to his seat. "Mandy, you next."  
  
"Expec-Expecto Patro-Patronum." She stammered out, her wand shaking in her hand. Surprisingly enough though, a giant silver bird soared out of her wand tip and circled the room once before coming back to it's maker and evaporating. "Wow . . ."   
  
"Spectacular! Positively smashing Mandy! And you were worried because . . . ?" Professor Figg applauded. The girl blushed furiously as she made her way back to her seat. "Let's see if you boys can do better than that. Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"Guess she wants to save the best for last." Harry couldn't resist muttering at the lanky blonde.  
  
"You wish." Malfoy hissed back, his eyes glued to the air before him. He didn't wait for Figg's permission to cast his spell. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He bellowed, thrusting his wand out before him as a cascade of white light shot from the end of his wand, quickly condensing into a massive dragon---its snout just grazing the high ceiling. When it found it couldn't unfurl his wings---let alone move---it let out a terrible yowl of frustration that thundered each student's insides, yet oddly didn't make a sound. Half a scream escaped its throat before it dissipated completely. "Beat that Potter." Malfoy muttered, knocking shoulders with Harry as he made his way back to his seat.  
  
"Incredible!" Professor Figg glowed. "I believe we have a new first place."  
  
"How positively smashing." Malfoy scowled, plucking his quill back up and continuing with whatever it was he was writing.  
  
"Potter, you next."   
  
Harry stepped forward---catching a glimpse of Malfoy quietly setting down his quill before his eyes snapped shut.   
  
  
  
---  
  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´*  
  
  
  
A/N2: I borrowed all of my Patronus information from the almighty J.K. Rowling.  
  
  
  
And a VERY special thanks to:  
  
Kirjava: thanks for all the reviews, and when I say mage I'm referring to a VERY   
powerful wizard/ witch, one who doesn't need a wand for their magic.   
And we'll see if anyone else gets to be one!!!  
  
And thanks to Nuts, LizzieDiagon, enoimreH, Ivvic, The Juke of Earl and anyone else I may have forgotten! Your reviews mean SOOOOOOOOO much to me!!! 


	18. Chapter 18: Terence Higgs

Xenith  
  
  
  
"Truth is the most valuable thing we have. Let us economise it."  
~~~Mark Twain  
  
  
  
Chapter Eighteen  
  
  
  
  
Focus.  
  
That's what Professor Figg had taught him. Focus. Focus for swordplay, focus for school work, focus for Quidditch . . . focus his magic.  
  
Focus.  
  
Harry held his wand out in front of him, steadied his hand, and tried desperately to summon up every dredge of power he possessed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He bellowed, his eyes flashing open as his wand tip exploded in a firework display of white hot light. His arm flew up to shield his eyes as the familiar silver stag galloped blindingly around the whole of the room. The stag returned to its maker, bowed his antlered head and vanished. Harry crumpled, curling in on himself. He felt completely drained of every ounce of his magic leaving only an acute ache---he couldn't breathe. And just as soon as the pain came, it left. He could breathe, and stand---he felt completely revitalised, magic flowing to his very finger tips. Harry's bespectacled eyes darted around the room, immediately taking notice of the fact that the majority of the class was staring open-mouthed at him, Ron and Hermione were half-way to the front of the room---wands in hand---Figg still perched on her desk as if she had been expecting something of this sort, and Malfoy, still scribbling away in his tidy, long script on his parchment.  
  
The bell signaling the end of the class rang from some distant part of the castle.  
  
Malfoy was the only one who moved, gathering his things and striding elegantly out of the large classroom.  
  
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, class dismissed." They seemed to have worked out their astonishment and scurried to collect their things and leave the room. Harry followed suit, hurrying past his still immobile friends and snatching his books from his back row seat and left the room.   
  
Ron and Hermione caught up with him in the corridor, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around to face them. "What?" Harry enquired quietly.  
  
"`What?' All you have to say for yourself is 'what?'" Ron demanded.  
  
"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said calmly, always the voice of reason.  
  
"Nothing!" Harry argued, scaring three first year girls and causing them to run past the trio with their heads down. Harry lowered his voice, pulling his two friends off to the side. "Nothing happened."  
  
"But you collapsed."  
  
"Not only did you collapse, Harry, you stood up there for nearly ten minuets with your eyes closed. What were you doing?" Ron said cautiously.  
  
"What? I was only up there for a minute or two." They both shook their heads. "I was up there for ten minuets?" Nods of consensus. "Why'd Figg let me stay then? Why didn't anyone stop me?"  
  
"We tried, but Figg wouldn't let us talk. Said to just let you go---let you concentrate . . ."  
  
"She wanted to see what you were going to do. Your Patronus, I suppose." Hermione murmured, her eyes darting over Harry's shoulder. "How did you do that Harry? I've seen your Patronus before and it's NEVER been like that. And you've never collapsed after one either, unless there was a dementor around that is."  
  
"I didn't pass out though. I just . . . concentrated my magic I suppose. I wanted to beat Malfoy so badly. But he didn't even care."  
  
"Yeah, what's wrong with him? He sat there writing the whole time, until you went, then he watched---his eyes never straying from you." Ron said, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
"Got your eye on Malfoy now Ron?" Hermione retorted with a smirk very much resembling their nemesis.  
  
"No!" Ron's shout echoing off the high ceiling. "He's not the one I've got my eye on." He muttered, blushing to the roots of his flaming red hair. "I've got to go---Divination." And he scurried away from them, ears burning.  
  
"You shouldn't do that to him, Herm." Harry scolded, trying desperately to repress his grin and failing.  
  
"Oh, I know," Hermione blushed, taking no notice of her nickname. "Look, I have to get to Arithmacy, we'll talk later?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Good." Hermione's eyes darted over his shoulder again. "I think Professor Figg wants to speak with you." She mumbled under her breath as she nudged past him, nodding to the Defense Professor as she made her way to the Arithmacy classroom in the East Wing.  
  
"That was quite a display Potter." Figg said softly, her words carrying across the distance nonetheless.   
  
"So I've come to gather." Harry replied, making no move towards her.  
  
"That was quite a Patronus." He didn't reply. "How'd you manage that?"  
  
"Focus." He found himself answering before he could stop himself. He bit his tongue.  
  
"Did you want to answer that?"  
  
"No." He answered honestly.  
  
"Then don't next time." She turned back to her classroom as the bell rang once more. "You're late Mr Potter. Good day." And she was gone.  
  
"Spite!" He cursed, taking off down the corridor.  
  
Harry dashed through passageway after passageway finally reaching the Charms hallway. //Only a corridor and a tower away.// He paused, sucked in a great gust of air and increased his speed tenfold only to have his breath completely knocked out of him as an arm shot out of the shadows of his Charms classroom and clamped over his mouth. His scream was muffled as a body slammed into his back and dragged him backwards into the room. The door smashed in front of him and a locking spell was hissed at the lock.  
  
"Promise not to scream and I'll let you go." A deep, vaguely familiar, voice muttered in his ear. Taking no heed of the voice he clamped his teeth into the warm flesh covering his mouth. The hand immediately let go of him. Harry spun on the spot, pulling his wand on the boy.  
  
  
  
  
It was Terrence Higgs. Slytherin's reserve Seeker.  
  
"Damn-it Potter!" The handsome sixth year yelped, holding his injured right hand with his left---no wand in sight. "I'm bleeding. What'd you do that for?"   
  
"What'd you attack me for?" Harry returned, wand still trained on the Slytherin. Higgs didn't really seem in any rush to answer though. He brought his right palm to his mouth and sucked at the blood before pulling an old piece of white linen, with a delicate black embroidered TH, from his back pocket, securing it tightly around his palm.   
  
"Put that away Potter." He addressed Harry finally, walking past him and knocking at his hand before casting a Silencing Charm on the door. "I'm not here to fight you." Harry pocketed his wand, though not without some very obvious trepidation.  
  
"What'd you attack me in the corridor for then?" He repeated.  
  
"I didn't attack you Potter. I would have used a curse or a Stunning Spell if I wanted to attack you."  
  
"Get on with it Higgs, I'm already late for class as it is."  
  
"Divination, right?" Harry nodded, confusion spreading like the Black Plague over his features. "Yeah, and I bet you're terribly disappointed that you're missing so much of it."  
  
"Why do you know my timetable?"  
  
"We all have your course table memorised. And Quidditch practices, library study sessions---"  
  
"All of whom exactly?"  
  
"All the children of the Dark Lord's followers." In the second it took Harry to whip out his wand, Stunning Spell on his lips, Terrence Higgs' wand had slid out of his sleeve, disarmed him, and casually pocketed Harry's wand. Harry had never seen ANYONE move so quickly in his entire life.  
  
"I _told _ you Potter, I'm not here to fight," and seeing the perplexed look that flashed though Harry's eyes he added: "And I'm not about to turn you over to the Dark Lord, worry not."  
  
He waved his hand idly in his direction and crossed to one of the long rows of desks and perched gracefully atop them.  
  
"Give me my wand back." Harry growled, not yet ready to trust the Slytherin.  
  
"Tut, tut, tut," he twitched his finger at the youth. "Not so fast."  
  
"Don't patronise me Higgs."  
  
"Okay, will you hear me out?" He nodded.  
  
"I'm late---"  
  
"---for class. Yeah, yeah, I know."  
  
"If you know so much then why don't you explain why you hauled me in here? I'm not going to drag it out of you."  
  
"Why so touchy Potter?" Terrence said, ignoring Harry's persistence.  
  
Harry said nothing; not wanting to admit out loud why he was upset; he should have know he was there---was going to jump out at him. Professor Figg had told him that, eventually, he would start picking up on the smallest of details. //Why didn't I hear him? He's a big guy, I should have heard him.// He blamed himself.  
  
//Yeah, but he is thin,// his rational side argued back. //And a seeker, and has probably had loads of Dart Arts training.//  
  
"Not going to answer, eh?" Higgs shrugged, interrupting Harry's inner repartee. "Oh well."  
  
  
"Higgs . . ." Harry growled, and not for the last time.  
  
"Touchy, touchy," He hopped off the desk and approached the smaller Gryffindor. "I have a proposal for you Potter---"  
  
"Not marriage I hope. Because I'd have to turn you down."  
  
"Oh darn, and here I was looking forward to playing mummy to all your Gryffindor spawn."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you." He crossed his arms defiantly.  
  
"Again, I'd like to make a deal with you Potter."  
  
"What sort?"  
  
"Well, let's put it this way, I've grown sick of the Dark Lord."  
  
"What?" His arms dropped to his sides as his eyes widened and his mouth nearly fell to the floor.  
  
"I. . .HATE. . .my . . .job." Higgs explained carefully, as if he were speaking with a small child.  
  
"And. . ." Harry let his question hang as he gathered his composure.  
  
"And," he took a deep breath, for the very first time showing his nerves. "I'm converting."  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
"Harry! Where were you?" Ron hissed at him when he collapsed into jis Divination armchair, well over an hour late and completely ignoring the bewildered looks his classmates and their insect of an instructor were shooting him. "I know I left you with Hermione," a slight blush crept into his cheeks. "But you couldn't have been there with her too much longer. She'd _never_ risk being late for Arithmacy. Trelawney was going on and on about you being mauled by rampaging dragons. I didn't believe her for a second though, of course---"  
  
"Breathe Ron," Harry muttered as the bell signaling the end of the class sounded and the two boys dashed to the trap door and slid down the silver ladder. "I'll telll you all about it later. We need to see Dumbledore tonight. Eleven pm." Ron nodded  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
Chris made her way slowly through the Entrance Hall and down into the dungeons. She let loose an almighty yawn and stretched her arms over her head. She paused halfway down the damp, musty corridor to Serverus' office and pulled at the tie holding her hair from her face. She shook out the dark tangly mane and rolled down the billowing burgundy sleeves of one of Mat's giant, old tunics (its ragged cuffs hanging well past her finger tips). She yawned again and was about to continue on her way when she caught a snatch of deep, low song floating down the dank corridor:  
  
"Here's to the night we felt alive . . ." she followed the voice around the corner, slowly gaining volume. ". . .Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry. Here's to goodbye . . ." she found the classroom the voice was emanating from. ". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ."   
  
"Fred?" She stuck her head into the classroom.  
  
  
  
  
  
". . . tomorrow's going to come too soon . . ." Fred finished softly to himself as he scrubbed at a particularly nasty spot of frog goo on the flagstone.  
  
"Fred?"  
  
"Wh---!?" He nearly jumped out of his trousers as he leapt to his feet, catching sight of the dragon girl.  
  
"Hey." She said softly, slipping through the door and shutting it soundlessly behind her.  
  
"God, you scared me." He sighed, wiping off his sweaty brow with a small clean portion of the rag and leaning against one of the already spotless desks.  
  
"I noticed." She took a hesitant step towards him.  
  
"Why're you down here?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
  
"Detention."  
  
"I have a meeting with Snape."  
  
"Too bad."  
  
"He's not too bad."  
  
"To each his own."  
  
"What'd you have detention for?"  
  
"_Someone_ stuffed a couple of dead toads full of fireworks and chucked them under the Slytherin cauldrons. Caused quite a bit of a mess apparently."  
  
"That's wonderful. Do you knew who did it?" An impish grin spreading across her face as she made her way progressively closer to him.  
  
"Had to have been someone _incredibly_ smart. . ."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"And handsome. . ."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And an utter genius."  
  
"Must've been George."  
  
"Hey!" He punched her playfully in the arm as she stopped half a metre away from him.  
  
"Hot?" She said out of the blue.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Were you hot?" She nodded at his discarded school robes thrown indolently over Professor Snape's desk. "No robes. . ." she ran her finger down the centre of his chest. ". . .no jumper. . ." she took the tie between her thumb and forefinger, sliding down the length of scarlet and gold ". . .loose tie. . ." her fingers trailed over his Quidditch hardened biceps to his bunched sleeves. ". . .rolled cuffs. Were you warm?"  
  
"A bit." He choked out, his voice husky.  
  
"I do like this colour on you." She stroked his green toned face lightly---fingers just grazing his cheek. She mussed his green sweat drenched hair. "Even if you DO smell a little gross." She gave a light laugh as Fred pulled her roughly into his arms. "Eager, are we?" She pulled back slightly. "How do you even know I _want_ to kiss you?" She laughed again, it was light and airy and full of passion. Fred brought his mouth to hers for a third time, gently at first but then with enough force to bruise her lips. Her arms locked behind his neck, her fingers twining in his short spikes. They stumbled, knocking Fred backwards onto the aforementioned desk---the lithe girl landing atop him and knocking the air from his lungs.  
  
But he didn't care. He felt the weight of her all along his body, pressing him into the ink wells and stray books littering the desktops, a constant, never ceasing pressure all along his chest and legs as everything he'd ever felt for the worm girl built like a tornado in his head; magic roaring through his ears as all of the blood in his body sped around in his veins, felt himself being crushed, burned, annihilated---and he wanted it, wanted to disappear entirely into this sensation and forget everything else.  
  
He had been kissed before, but not like this; he had kissed her before, but not like this. Before her feelings had never matched his, it had always been him kissing her. Even their last kiss, in the hospital wing, he had sensed her reluctance, her unwavering knowledge of how wrong it was. But now . . . now her emotion matched his, all his desire, hope, adore and confusion mirrored in her own; it was her body pinning him to the desktop, her hands tightening on the cloth of his shirt, yanking it up so violently that some of the buttons popped off. "Hey." He said in mild indignation, when she smiled he felt it against his mouth.  
  
She slid one of her hands inside the open shirt while the other yanked his tie over his head---momentarily separating the two youths. Fred's mouth clamped onto her neck, finding the pulse point that made her shudder against him. He felt her long, cold, rough fingers running up and down his chest and sides. His heart was trying to bang its way out of his ribcage and he couldn't get enough air, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was her, the feel of her and the taste of her skin and mouth. She was kissing him so hard he could taste blood too but that didn't matter either.  
  
Chris crouched on her knees over his legs and pulled Fred up by his collar so they were sitting on the desks facing one another. He was never going to be able to sit in Potions anymore without getting turned on. "Fred," She panted out. "Fred, other side."  
  
"Huh?" He pulled away, momentarily distracted as she ripped his shirt from him.  
  
"Other side, Fred," she moved his mouth to the other side of her neck and attacked. "You can't mark me." She let the smallest of moans escape her lips as she locked her scantly clad legs around his waist. Fred's hips bucked at the contact and he wrenched the too large tunic off her shoulders, exposing her elegant, however scared, collar bone.  
  
"Bloody fuck." She muttered, biting slightly into his muscular, passion flushed shoulder.  
  
"What?" He mumbled stupidly, sliding his hands beneath the back of her top, the fact that she was only wearing a tight wrap-'round shirt beneath it hitting him like a freight train.  
  
"I have to go." She pushed at him softly.  
  
"Huh?" He detached his mouth and let his hands snake around beneath the front of her shirt.  
  
"I have a meeting. . .I'm late." Her entire body let loose an uncharacteristically violent shudder completely betraying her words.  
  
"Mmmm." He murmured, dragging his tongue along the lines of her shoulders.  
  
"I . . . I have to go." She pushed herself away from the Gryffindor, pulled her tunic back over her shoulders and ran a deeply blood pitted hand through her haphazard locks.  
  
  
"Where are you going?" Fred questioned, finding himself at a complete loss---her mirth-filled laugh didn't help any.  
  
"I have to meet someone, remember?"   
  
"No!" Fred was so frustrated she could almost see a red tinge breaking through the vibrant green.  
  
"Snape, Mat and I have a meeting with him."  
  
"Nooo!" He groaned, flopping backwards and looking as if he were about to explode right there on the desktop, which he probably was. She crossed back to him, pulling him back into a sitting position and placing a soft kiss on his cheek before Fred captured her lips again in a vain attempt at re-engaging her. She grazed an agonisingly tantalising hand down his chest.  
  
"Another time," she laughed softly. "Another time." And she left Fred to talk himself down.  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
"Acid-pop." Hermione supplied as the gargoyle revealed the entrance for the trio. "He's expecting us?" She asked Harry.  
  
"I don't know, Higgs supposedly set this up." He muttered under his breath.  
  
"You're sure this is not a trap? He IS a Slytherin."  
  
"No, I'm not sure."   
  
"Wands out, I'd say." Hermione said softly. The two nodded and slid their wands out of their pockets. They reached the top of the rotating staircase and Harry knocked softly on the aged door.  
  
"Come in, Hullo Harry, Ron, Hermione," Dumbledore greeted them. "Have a seat." He motioned to a couch along the far wall; the three seated themselves and hid away their wands without any notice. "The rest will be joining us shortly."  
  
"Rest?" Harry asked.  
  
"You'll be sitting in on a small meeting."  
  
"For the Order, sir?" Hermione perked up.  
  
"Yes, m'dear."  
  
"Why are we here then?"  
  
"That's why I asked you to come earlier then everyone else. The three of you have come to be some of the most prominent names in the wizarding world---and not just because of your connections to Mr Potter."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well, Hermione, the Ministry has had their eyes on you for quite some time."  
  
"Why?" She asked, sitting up straighter next to Ron.  
  
"First it was due to your close relationship with Harry, then your marks, and they found out how you got past Professor Snape's potion challenge in your first year here---and they've had your magical career planned out for you since."  
  
"What?!"   
  
"And Ron," he continued with the slightest of smiles. "Your family's quite well known in the magical community."  
  
"We are?" The cracking of Ron's voice throwing Harry off of the idea that the conversation seemed just a tadtoo well rehearsed.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes you are. Your family used to have a lot of say in the way things were run."  
  
"Used."  
  
"Your father has become rather unpopular since the end of last year due to the unfortunate happenings at the finale of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All of Ron's family have joined the Order, even our young Mr Weasley. Go on." Ron nodded and unbuckled his watch strap. He turned over his left hand and showed Harry and Hermione. On the inside if his wrist, parallel to the heel of his palm, was the smallest of feather tattoos. The red-orange of the inch long mark was the exact shade of the freckles scattered all over the red-head's body.  
  
"What does this mean?" Hermione said softly, her delicate fingers brushing over the tattoo.  
  
"It's so the members of the Order of the Phoenix can identify one another.  
  
"Is it used to summon?" Harry asked. "Like the Dark mark?"  
  
"Yes but only in the most dire situations---" He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. The knocker didn't wait for permission to enter before barging in.  
  
"`Lo Dumbledore," It was Alastor Moody closely followed by a small heard of wizards and witches; Mr & Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam and Eddie Jameson, Professors Snape and Figg, Terrence Higgs, and finally a tall, dark man wearing a short traveling cloak and, what appeared to be, a black tunic and trousers of the same sort their substitutes had the habit of wearing.  
  
"I'm sorry to do this but, Mr Higgs?" Dumbledore waved over the scarlet and gold Slytherin. Higgs nodded smartly and crossed behind the Headmaster's desk. He knelt facing away from the standing wizard and bent his chin to his chest.  
  
"What are y---?" Harry began.  
  
"Wait Harry." Ron hissed.  
  
Dumbledore peeled back the collar of his black ribbed mock-turtleneck and placed the tip of his wand at its base, where his spine bulged as it ran into his neck. The moment the wand touched his skin his entire body convulsed as if he'd been electrocuted. The wand left his neck and Higgs stood and came over to the couch holding the three fifth years. Ron held out his wrist for the Slytherin. Higgs' eyes clouded over as he analysed the feather tattoo. He nodded and moved to the next wizard, each revealing their Phoenix mark as he came to them---Mr Weasley, right ankle---inside, Fred, bottom of his left foot, George, his right, followed by Chris, Mat, Timothy, Adam, Eddie (Mat's twin) sporting his on the inside of his left thumb, Professor Snape, the inside of his bottom lip, Figg, the base of her back, and Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody, the top of his left hand---all received nods of verification. When Higgs finally reached the one occupant of the room Harry couldn't identify the man took down the hood of his travelling cloak to reveal a strong, square-featured man with sharp, blue/black eyes all situated beneath a mop of short dark hair. He showed the cloudy-eyed Slytherin the palm of his left hand. Satisfied, Higgs nodded, crossed back to the Headmaster and knelt before him as the aforementioned procedure was once again administered.  
  
"I don't like having to check my loyalties every time we gather, but considering previous transgressions against myself and this school, it is a caution I deem necessary." Professor Dumbledore explained.  
  
"We all understand Albus, no need to apologise every time you call us together." Moody grumbled, seating himself in one of the chairs facing his desk.  
  
"Yes, well our ties with one another must be closer then ever," Harry could have sworn he saw Fred's eyes dart to their female substitute, but Chris took no notice of the look and remained immobile beside her siblings, hands clasped behind her back. "And I take no comfort in distrusting those whom I place my all my faith in."   
  
"Nor do I," Moody commented, eliciting the smallest of chuckles from Professor Figg. "But faith is a fickle thing, Albus, a fickle thing. But down to business! You told the whole school of the Bulgarian attack, I presume?"  
  
"They need to know, to try and understand what is happening to their world."  
  
"Aye, that it be," Mad-eye said gruffly. "But what happened? How did the Death Eaters kill that great gangly beast?"  
  
"A Chinease Fireball." Tim Jameson offered.  
  
  
"A dragon?" Mr Weasley asked, crossing his arms across his chest.  
  
"Yes, two of them actually, they've begun training their own." Adam helped out from beside his brother. "Only the largest, most vicious feral worms suffice."  
  
"And who would train a thing like that?" Molly Weasley asked, aghast.  
  
"We did, for some time actually."  
  
"You trained dragons for You-Know-Who?"  
  
"No, the feral Fireballs, Ridgebacks, Greens, even the occasional Hungarian Horntail."  
  
"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Did you say Ridgeback? As in Norwegian Ridgeback?"  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
"Nothing, I just knew one once." He said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. No-one questioned him further but he saw the shadow of a smile cross the Headmaster's face.  
  
"Well anyway, we've got two Fireballs, an Eagle-Eye, nine Welsh Greens---"  
  
"They seem to be the tamest and most easily trained of them all." Eddie interrupted his brother.  
  
"---four Sypros, six Hydro Chems, and a Ridgeback who's just finishing his training and should be able to hold a station at Hogsmeade sometime after Christmas." Adam finished.  
  
"Very well," Dumbledore said, folding his hands across his desk. "And we have someone lined up for the position? We need two in Hogsmeade, preferably someone with prior knowledge of the terrain."  
  
"Possibly," Eddie supplied. "He's playing Quidditch right now, but he'll take the job. Just give'em some time."  
  
"All the riders are athletes." Chris spoke up for the first time upon entering the office. "And most Quidditch. I think we've got one who's into Quadpot . . ."   
  
"Yeah, Nathan Andrews, Charlie Weasley's mate." Mat said.  
  
"And most are either Keepers or Seekers, the creame of the crop. And all are young---none older than twenty-five."  
  
"They're trained in military tactics?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"They've all had, at least, basic training. Our top rider is---"  
  
"Was." Mat corrected.  
  
"Was a Level-Five Archangel. But he dropped out, preferring to fight with you rather then the Ministry. With how corrupt it's become of late I don't blame him."  
  
"Charles Wallace?" Dumbledore inquired, riffling though the papers on his desk for his file.  
  
"Yes sir, he's just seventeen last month, I believe."  
  
"And he was a Level-Five Archangel? At sixteen?" Mr Weasley said skeptically.  
  
"One of their youngest to date."  
  
"And you've been through this type of training also?"  
  
"Arthur," Dumbledore said softly. "He's not the only one who's had all of his schooling compacted." His sharp blue eyes darted to the Jameson children present. "Am I right in presuming you've all finished the required seven years of schooling by age fourteen?" They all nodded. "And what sort of military training have you received?"  
  
"I've had half-a-year of basic M.o.M. training, all of us have, followed by two years of Auror training, a year of field experience, and I was a Seven-Minute Man for four months before coming here." Timothy replied.  
  
"I made it to Level-Two Archangel." Adam said.  
  
"Basic Auror training and field work." Eddie said. "Mat too."  
  
"Basic, field work, and half-a-year in the States for flight training." Chris finished.  
  
"So they're all trained, what's your point?" Mad-eye complained. "Wonderful, why was Voldemort able to destroy that Gringotts so easily if they're so highly qualified?"  
  
"Dark magic?" Hermione said softly from the side of the room.  
  
"Obviously." Snape snipped, Hermione closed her mouth and sank deeper into the couch next to Ron. He touched her arm for a moment before drawing his hand back quickly, realising what he had done and blushing.  
  
"Yes Hermione, dark magic." Dumbledore smiled fondly at her, causing her to brighten slightly. "It was an attack, the fifth attack since the end of last year. The first four were all on Muggles equidistance from Harry's aunt and uncle's residence." His eyes fell on Harry at this point. "Twelve Muggle killings thus far---all unpublished and hushed over by the Ministry. This attack on the Bulgarian Gringotts has been made known to the public. _Thirty-seven_ wizard deaths and over a hundred goblins."  
  
"And what of the two dragon riders?" Mad-Eye grumbled.  
  
"Both gone. The dragon that made it back to us is much like a homing pigeon. We were lucky with this one---they've stopped being trained in that manner, too easily traced." Tim said.  
  
"And how do you know it wasn't followed?"  
  
"Don't you think something would have happened by now if it was?" Tim snapped, His dark gray eyes flashing heatedly at the crippled old man.  
  
"Possibly, but you have this school protected, Dumbledore? Are the students safe? That's everyone's number one priority."  
  
"This school is protected in more ways than even I know, or understand for that matter." Dumbledore said.  
  
"We've thought that in the past, Albus, and we've all seen how well that's turned out. Your school was invaded by an imposter and a boy was killed just last year!"  
  
"The imposter only even made it into this school due to your inability to defend your own home, Alastor." Snape drawled quietly.  
  
"I _know_ what has happened in the past," Dumbledore broke in before the inevitable rude exchange had a chance to take place. "But we have taken every conceivable precaution available."  
  
"Do you have dragons guarding this place too then?" Mad-Eye asked, his blue eye glaring at Snape while his brown focused on the herd of Jameson's.  
  
"Yes," Tim said. "Steve and Tom are out there now. Brian and Brad have the day shift tomorrow. Adam, Eddie and I have tomorrow during the day; Steve and Tom take nearly every night. Chris and Mat don't take the watch ever due to the terrors of teaching." He shot his youngest siblings the smallest of smiles, the first time he'd seen him do so in the short time he'd known him. "Although, I don't think Mat actually does that much." Harry could hear Mat's knuckles crack as he clenched his fists.  
  
"Well then, seeing as it is quite late, and some of you have classes tomorrow," Dumbledore said, his eyes travelling over the five Gryffindors and the Slytherin. "Mister Higgs, you know what you need to do?" He nodded. "Then make sure you make the proper arrangements. You may go."  
  
"Yes, sir." And he left the room.  
  
"Fred, George? Keep your eyes open, as of now you are my only connection at the student level---they keep far too much from their Professors. Report what you deem relevant." They nodded and exited the office.  
  
"Harry, Hermione?"   
  
"Yes?" Hermione replied.  
  
"I need you to pay close attention to Ron. He knows a lot more than he lets on, even to his best friends. Listen to what he has to say and do what he needs you to do. If you have any questions at all about anything he tries to teach you or information he passes along, feel free to come to me about it. I'll always be here."  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"Come-on." Ron pulled on the arm of Harry's robes.  
  
"Wait, Headmaster?" Harry said, coming to his feet. "Do you think you could do something 'bout this?" He held out his green and silver arm. "Preferably for all of us? Haven't we suffered enough?" He smiled half-heartedly.   
  
"Of course." He said, his face breaking into its usual wrinkled grin. With an almost casual wave of his wand the green evaporated from his skin---leaving him seemingly paler than before.  
  
"Thanks." Harry sighed, glad to finally be back to normal, well, as normal as one could be when they were Harry Potter. He allowed Ron and Hermione to drag him from the tower office  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
"Hey look!" George said, holding out his arm for his brother's inspection. "We're normal coloured again! Well as normal as we ever are at least."  
  
"George," Fred said, stopping half-way down the corridor from Dumbledore's office and taking next to no notice of their sudden lack of Slytherin colours. "I want to---"  
  
"---wait for Chris." George finished.  
  
"Yeah, I'll meet you at Gryffindor tower later."  
  
"Try not to be _too_ long, I do need my beauty rest." George said in a high, girlish voice, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder  
  
  
"I won't." He made to turn away.  
  
"And Fred?" He grabbed his arm.  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"You need to do something 'bout Angelina. She really likes you."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Break up with her then!"  
  
"And how should I go 'bout doing that?"  
  
"Well, I know, for a fact, that Rupert Balin, the new Hufflepuff Seeker, fancies the pants off her."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, and if you talk to him I bet you can get him to make a move on it. 'Specially if you're not paying any attention to her. Then you might even get lucky and she'll break up with you!"   
  
"Good, I'll do that. See you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye."   
  
Fred slunk into the shadows next to a large statue of Nathan the Numbskull holding a map upside-down and scratching his head.  
  
  
  
  
"Did you get all that?" Ron asked softly as they got off of the moving staircase and the gargoyle leapt back into place.  
  
"What is you are supposed to teach me?" Harry asked, running his fingers though his hair as he had a habit of doing when he was upset and stressed about something.  
  
  
"A lot." Ron answered, trying to see what his friend was thinking in the dark of the corridor.  
  
"And between the end of last year and the beginning of this one, when did you have the time to learn it all?"  
  
"Over the summer. While you were having an absolutely smashing time with your lovely relatives, I was studying! And you _know_ how much I love that."  
  
"When do we start?"  
  
"Well, now I sus. . ." Fred didn't catch the end of Ron's sentence as they drifted further and further down the corridor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Who else have we got for Hogsmeade?" Chris asked as she and her four brothers appeared from behind the gargoyle.  
  
"We're recruiting students here starting after Christmas," Tim said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully we'll get some of the Quidditch players."  
  
"Shush." Mat held up his hand to halt his siblings. Even in the dark of the corridor the five highly trained wizards could sense someone lurking in the shadows near the statue beside them. "Who's there?"   
  
"Fred came slowly out of the shadows, hands behind his head. "It's just me, worry not."  
  
"Weasley!" Mat groaned, pocketing his wand, his siblings following suit.  
  
"You shouldn't be lurking." Chris reprimanded.  
  
"Sorry, I just wanted a word with you---'bout today's class." He lied quickly.  
  
"Alright," she nodded for her brothers to go, almost all departing immediately. "I'll be fine, Mat. Really."   
  
"See you tomorrow." He said, letting loose the smallest of smiles at his sister before sending a warning glare at Fred. "Weasley."  
  
"Professor Jameson." Fred said, watching Mat slip into a stone passageway between a suit of armour and a portrait of a decrepit old wizard snoozing against his frame.   
  
"Is it just me, or is your brother a bit edgy?"  
  
"He's---we've---been through a lot together. And after what happened to our mum. . ." She trailed off, turning away from the Weasley and hugging her arms to her chest.  
  
"Chris, what happened?" He approached her cautiously from behind and gently caressed her shoulders.  
  
"Come-on, let's go to my room." Fred had had no idea what to expect when he'd posed the question but it definitely wasn't that.  
  
"Okay."  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Will you tell me later then?"  
  
"Yes, but not here."  
  
"And why you were in Dumbledore's office just now?"  
  
"Everything, Fred. I promise."  
  
"Just one more thing."  
  
"Yes?" She turned back to him.  
  
"Can I. . ." he trailed off, feeling like he was eleven again and trying in vain to court Angelina for the first time. "Can I hold your hand?" He ducked his head as he blushed to the roots of his hair and the tips of his ears.  
  
She laughed again and touched his face lightly, bringing his eyes back to her own. "Of course." She slid her hand into his and let her lips brush against his before murmuring in his ear. "Come on."  
  
  
  
---  
  
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A/N: Wooo! This is my longest chapter ever!!! Seventeen Pages!!!!! As usual, Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!!!!!!! A special note to Baby Bumblebee: It follows the summary, worry not! I'm almost there! (And the snog session was inspired by Cassandra Claire's wonderful works! Everyone should read her stuff!!! And the song Fred sings isn't mine, it belongs to whomever it belongs to, I don't have the name with me and I'm far to lazy to look it up at the moment!) Oh, yeah, and the name 'Charles Wallace' is taken from 'A Wrinkle in Time', a wonderful book everyone should read, and worry not, it's not the beginning of a cross-over story---I just love the character and wanted to borrow his name for my own use. 


	19. Chapter 19: The Ravenclaw

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
  
"Friends forever, that's what we say but we'll be in a fight the very next day"  
~~~Unknown  
  
  
A/N: I am soooooooooooooooo sorry it took so long for me to get this out! My brain was so muddled I could barely write! But, all excuses aside, here is chapter nineteen and twenty is half done so it should, maybe, be out by Sunday---that's what I'm aiming for anyway. Thanks! R&R!!!  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Nineteen  
  
  
  
  
"Dragon-fly." Chris said when they had reached a small oil painting of a dragon circling over a castle courtyard full of knights.  
  
The frame opened to reveal a small room. One of the four walls was taken up by, at least, twenty cages stacked floor to ceiling. The wall to the right of the entrance held a worn wooden bureau, the top covered with moving photographs and dirt (and what looked like blood) covered dragon tools. Beside it was a dark entrance leading, presumably, to a toilet. An old bed took up the majority of the far wall with a small dragon perched on the headboard and an ancient horizontal window stretching over the whole of it. At the head of the bed there stood a fireplace, and along the same wall were a wide assortment of hooks and shelves holding all of her leather armour and riding gear and a small work table full of oils an scrub brushes with a tiny stool.   
  
"`Lo Feather." She greeted her dragon, pulling Fred in by the hand, the picture closing silently behind them. Fred's eyes darted to the dragon at the headboard, it seemed glaring at him.  
  
Fred followed her over to the bad and sat down as close as possible to her.  
  
"What is it you were going---" Fred started only to be cut off as Chris pressed her lips against his, sufficiently distracting him. It was soft, at first, delicate and exploring, but quickly became deeper and full of want. Her hands were working at the buttons of Fred's cotton shirt---he hadn't bothered with getting completely re-dressed since their previous encounter. When she finished, she slid her hands over the lines of his chest, up to his shoulders and beneath the fine white cotton; pushing the cloth off his shoulders. She kissed him again, but pulled away before he could get a firm grasp on her.  
  
"I need to brush my teeth." She said.  
  
"Why?" He sputtered out.  
  
"I have dental hygiene issues," she laughed. "It's weird, I know. But I have to, at least twice a day."  
  
"Why don't you just use a Sealing Charm? You'd never get a cavity that way."  
  
"I did" Fred just sighed and watched her scamper into the dark doorway. The door closed and a strip of light appeared at the bottom of the door. Fred flopped backward onto her bed, hands behind his head, eyes roaming the ceiling. He could hear her bussing around inside the loo, the sink running, being turned off, the toilet seat slamming shut---he checked his watch, Five minuets had passed . . . seven . . . ten. He pushed himself off the bed and crossed to the toilet door.  
  
"Chris?" he called, knocking lightly on the door. "Chris?  Are you okay?" He pushed the door open and peered into the dimly lit toilet. Chris was sitting on the toilet, fast asleep with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.  
  
Fred just sighed, plucked the toothbrush from her mouth and tossed it in the stone sink next to the door. He scooped her into his arms and took her back to her bed. He found himself pleasantly surprised when she wouldn't let go of him---effectively pulling him into the bed next to her. "Ummm." Pulling him into the bed with her and curling up next to him.  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"Ahhh . . ." Ron said, throwing himself into a massive armchair beside the fire and scratching his nose, deflating any fleeting thoughts of seniority that may have been establishing themselves in Harry and Hermione's minds. "Er---here, we'll start with this, I guess. It's really important you pick this up quickly, Harry." Ron propped his elbow up on the armrest.  
  
Harry and Hermione watched as Ron's fingers moved in unrecognisable, rapid-fire movements.  
  
"What's that?" Hermione asked, perching on the low table in front of him.  
  
"It's code. I heard that the Marauder's developed it during the first batch of trouble with You-Know-Who."  
  
"How long did it take you to learn it?" Harry said, curling up in the corner of the sofa furthest from his friends and the fire.  
  
"A month-and-a-half," Ron answered. "But that's all I did the entire time, except to write to you two."  
  
"And how long have I got?"  
  
"With all the other stuff they want you to fit in by Easter?" Harry nodded. "Two weeks."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"I know."  
  
"What is it you mean by 'everything'?" Harry interrupted before Hermione had a chance to carp over unreasonable work schedules.  
  
"You've already begun your sword training, but then there's basic M.o.M. and Auror training."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"To my knowledge they want you to take extra Defense classes, and learn at least twelve new languages and eighty new curses."  
  
"And when am I supposed to DO all this?"  
  
"Nights, free periods, weekends."  
  
"What about sleep?" Hermione asked.  
  
"What about Quidditch?"  
  
Ron just shrugged.  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
Today, Professor McGonagall said, striding to the front of the room. "We will be putting to practice what we've been taking notes on in the past weeks lessons. Human transfiguration! Everyone pair up."  
  
"Partner me, George?" Lee said from George's other side before Fred had a chance to.  
  
"Yeah." George said, shooting an I'll-be-speaking-with-you-later look at Fred before turning away.  
  
"Be my partner, Fred?" Dylan, one of the Ravenclaw Prefects, asked from the row behind him.  
  
"But of course m'lady!" Fred said, putting on airs and spinning off his seat to face the dark-haired girl.  
  
  
  
  
"You spent the night with Chris, didn't you?" George demanded the moment they had left the classroom and were out of earshot of their class.  
  
"Yes, but it's not what you think." Fred said, striding down the corridor on their way to their advance placement potions class.  
  
"We didn't DO anything! We went there to talk, she wanted to tell me about . . . something, I don't remember what now---but then we started fooling around and she went to brush her teeth---"  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
"She went to brush her teeth," Fred insisted. "And she didn't come back so I went to go check on her. She fell asleep on the toilet and was gone before I woke up this morning. I overslept and missed breakfast.  
  
"Then why did you have to stay the night?"  
  
"That's my own business." Fred said, knocking past Curtis Saunders and down towards the dungeons.  
  
"Ha!"  
  
"Shudd-up George." He snapped, taking his seat in the middle of the room as the rest of the small class streamed in around them.  
  
  
  
  
---  
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	20. Chapter 20: Ron, Ron, Ron, what will we ...

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
"It is better to be cruel for love than for hate." --Thomas Burnett Swann   
  
  
  
  
Chapter 20  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Hermione?" Ron said the next day at breakfast, pushing his hash around his plate and not looking at her.  
  
"Yes Ron?" She asked, turning away from Ginny, with whom she had been speaking with.  
  
"Well, I was . . . er---" he stammered out, unable to organise his thoughts in any sort of coherent sentence. "Do you---I mean, would you . . ." Harry had to turn away from the table as he found himself snorting in an uncontrollable gale of laughter. "Shut-it Harry." Ron kicked him under the table.  
  
"Hermione?" A tall, good-looking boy from Ravenclaw had come up behind her.  
  
"Yes, Malcolm?" Hermione said as she turned to the boy. He crouched down beside her.  
  
"Would you go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?" Harry turned back to his two friends, immediately sobered.  
  
"Er---" he could see Hermione's big brown eyes dart over to Ron. But Ron was scowling at his plate and stabbing angrily at his biscuit. "Yes. I'll go with you."  
  
"Great! We'll make a real day of it." Malcolm grinned and bounced back to his feet. "See you in class then, Hermione." He waved and made his way back to the Ravenclaw table, whistling.  
  
Hermione turned back to the table, her cheeks only the slightest bit pink (and Harry believed it not to have been because of her newly acquired date).  
  
For a moment the three were quiet, that is until: "Cheating on Vicky now, are you?" Harry winced, closing his eyes against then idiocy of his best mate and the row was undoubtedly in the express post.  
  
"Don't call him that." Hermione said in a calm voice. //Maybe there won't be a fight.//  
  
"Then what should I call him? Your boyfriend? Or your lover?" //Never mind.//  
  
"What did you just say?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"VICTOR is not any of those things, and he never was."  
  
"Then what about that kid---that Ravenclaw?" Ron growled.  
  
"His name is Malcolm Anders, and he's my class partner in Advance Transfiguration _and_ Arithmacy."  
  
"And you're dating him now?! How long have you known this one? He looks like a bad egg."  
  
"He is NOT a bad egg!"  
  
They were both standing now and shouting across the table that separated them. Harry caught glimpse Dumbledore shaking his head at the Professors who were standing to break up the argument, his eyes shining in glee behind the half-moon spectacles. The two Gryffindor's had commanded the attention of the entire hall.  
  
"He is if I say he is!"  
  
"Since when are you the definitive authority on the merit of teenage wizards?"  
  
"Since a Ravenclaw asked you out!"  
  
"He is very smart, Ron, unlike SOME boys I know." She growled, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
"You better be talking about Harry."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"I am not talking about Harry, you great bloody pillock." She spat, turning on her heel and stalking from the hall.  
  
"Well, what's everyone starring at?" Ron snapped at the whole of the Great Hall. "Go on, eat your food. Watch not to choke, Malcolm." He growled, glaring at the Ravenclaw as he stormed out of the hall, slamming the great doors behind him.  
  
Harry hurried from his seat, nodding at Professor Dumbledore in quiet gratitude for not interfering, and hurrying after Ron.  
  
"Ron!" Harry called as he ran after the fast retreating red-head. "Your going the wrong way."  
  
"I'm not going!" Ron shouted. "She'll be there. She'd NEVER miss Care of Magical Creatures. She never misses any classes!"  
  
"Okay," Harry said catching up with him. "Where are we going?"  
  
"We?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"She's so stupid!" Ron groaned, throwing his arms in the air in continuation of his rant. "How could she DO that? I know she knew what---I mean, YOU knew, how could she not?  
  
"Maybe she does know but you're not giving her any signs that her thoughts are well founded. Take a right here." Harry instructed.  
  
"What do you mean 'I'm not giving her any signs'? What the hell kind of signs am I supposed to give her?!"  
  
"Under this tapestry," Harry moved the fabric aside for Ron. "Why don't you TELL her you like her for starters?"  
  
"That would _never_ work!" He took the steps up three at a time.  
  
"Ron, she likes you! She's just too---"  
  
"She likes me? She said that?"  
  
"Well, not exactly . . ."   
  
"Then she doesn't? See it's hopeless!"  
  
"I didn't say that! Go left." They were heading down the Charms corridor now, Ron still two steps ahead of him.   
  
"She's so bloody hard to figure out!"  
  
"Shhh, Ron, through that doorway. Of course she's hard to figure out. She's Hermione."  
  
"Oh great," Ron groaned, stepping through the doorway and onto a moving staircase. "`The Hall 'O Moving Stairs and Pictures'. You know, I think I hate this room the most in all the castle." They moved their way slowly from staircase to staircase to the very top, Ron surprisingly quiet the entire time.  
  
"Where are we going?" Ron finally asked as they left the hall of stairs.  
  
"Just wait, we're almost there."  
  
Harry led him around another corner into a corridor that dead-ended at a small dusty wooden door with heavy iron hardware.  
  
"Watch this, Ron. I've been practicing." Harry grinned, and held his hand over the doorknob. Ron watched as Harry's hand began to vibrate and he heard the lock click and the door swung open.   
  
"No wand . . ." Ron gawked, staring at Harry's hand as he let it fall to his side. "Wish I could do that."  
  
"Come on." Harry said.  
  
What Ron wound up finding as he ducked through the short doorway was a circular floor of flagstone with no ceiling or walls and very high up.  
  
"What's this?" He asked, following Harry to its middle.  
  
"It's the old Astronomy Tower, the highest point in the entire castle." Harry explained, turning in a slow circle, his arms stretched wide. "Isn't it wonderful? I found it when I couldn't sleep one night. You know, nightmares."  
  
"It's incredible." Ron breathed, moving to pear over the edge. Why don't we study here anymore?"  
  
"Some kid nearly fell off during a lesson and they thought it better if they closed it off. Harry lay down in the centre of the tower, folding his hands beneath his head and crossing his ankles. Closing his eyes he let the warm fall sunshine wash over him. He could hear Ron begin to pace nearby. "It'll all be okay, Ron. Trust me."  
  
"With Hermione? Or our world?" He could feel, or sense rather, Ron stoop down next to him.  
  
"Both."  
  
"But how do you know?"  
  
"She loves you. She's your lobster."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, just something I saw on the telly once."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"Never-mind."  
  
"Well what about the other?"  
  
"We'll survive."  
  
"But how do you know?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Because I have to."  
  
Ron lay down a foot or so away from him and gazed into the pale sky. "Yeah . . . we will be."  
  
  
  
  
By the time the two Gryffindors left the tower it was well past dinner and the sun was fading quickly from the sky.  
  
"You know, we're going to be paying for this tomorrow." Ron said, strolling back towards Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Yeah, well what can you do?" Harry shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets.  
  
"You hungry?" Ron asked.  
  
"A bit." Harry's stomach growled just then. Ron laughed.  
  
"Let's go down to the kitchens. Hermione's not with us so the house elves should be happy to serve us." Harry nodded.  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
22 October  
  
  
  
"Happy birthday to you!" Fred and George sang at the top of their lungs as they marched into Ginny's dormitory carrying a purple and blue cake that looked very much as if the twins had decorated it themselves. The twins were closely followed by a very drowsy Gryffindor Quidditch team (plus Ron and Hermione). "Happy Birthday to you!" The rest joined in less exuberantly. "Happy Birthday to you!!!" Fred and George dragged out, ripping open the curtains on her four poster.  
  
"Go away." Ginny groaned from beneath the quilt she'd pulled over her head.  
  
"Yeah, go away!" One of the other girls in her dorm shouted from within the shroud of her bed-curtains.  
  
"But, dear sister," Fred said in a sing-song voice, ignoring both girls protestations. "Today is your four-and-tenth birthday!"  
  
"We've come to help you celebrate!" George piped up.  
  
"So upsidaisy!" And with that the quilt was pulled from her face and the eleven pyjam clad Gryffindors squeezed onto her bed.  
  
"Uggg," she moaned, running her fingers through her sleep tangled hair as she pushed herself into a sitting position. "What time is it?" She rubbed her eyes, yawning.  
  
"Six-thirty." Angelina said, pulling her legs up under her."  
  
"It's Saturday, Fred! George!"  
  
"This was all their idea," Hermione said. "Make sure you blame them."  
  
"Blow out your candles, Gin. The wax is getting all over the cake." George said, sucking purple frosting off his thumb.  
  
"Fine." Ginny said with a sigh before taking a big breath.  
  
"Make a wish." Harry whispered from his spot by her headboard the moment she went to blow out her candles, causing her to fail miserably.  
  
"Good job, Gin." Ron laughed. "Try again."  
  
  
  
  
By the time everyone had had their fill of purple cake, and nearly completely awake, Ginny was ready to open her gifts.  
  
"Here, this is from Angelina and I." Katie said, handing her a long slender present wrapped beautifully in the Gryffindor house colours.  
  
"Thanks, but you didn't have to . . ." Angelina argued. "You're part of the team now."  
  
Ginny tore at her gift with Weasley vigor revealing a slim leather wand case. "Oh, thanks." Ginny crooned, running her fingers over the smooth, brown leather.  
  
"Here, this one's from Conner and me." Colin said, handing her another slender box, badly wrapped in an old issue of the Prophet with far too much Spello-tape. "It's not much . . ." Colin said when she'd finally gotten her fingers under a flap and tore through the newsprint.  
  
"Oh, it's wonderful, Colin!" She gasped as the box opened to an elegant blood red quill.  
  
"Ahhh, it was nothing. Conner's dad has connections . . ."  
  
"What's the feather?"  
  
"Veela." Conner said quietly, he wasn't much of a talker.  
  
"What?! Ginny's mouth fell open.  
  
"It's a Veela feather. When they went mad at the last Cup my dad was allowed to go gather the feathers that had been shed on the field. He makes high quality quills for important wizards. Like the Minister." It was the most that they'd ever heard their Keeper say at one time, Ginny's wasn't the only jaw that had dropped.  
  
"This is too much!" Ginny exclaimed.  
  
"We wanted you to have it." Conner said, his quiet tone ending any further arguments.  
  
"Thank-you guys!" She threw her arms around the two boys. Causing Colin to go quite oink 'round the ears.  
  
"This one's from Harry and Ron and I." Hermione said, handing her a large, nearly flat, square box.  
  
"Do you think you put enough tape and ribbon on it?" Ginny asked, trying in vain to unwrap the present.  
  
"Harry and I wrapped it." Ron piped up, grinning wickedly.  
  
"Really?" Ginny said sarcastically. "I couldn't tell." When she finally managed off most of the ribbon she tore off the blue paper and nearly dropped the gift, it wasn't a book, as Ginny had expected coming from Hermione, but Ron's second most prized possession. His second favourite chess set. The one he used to practice with her on before he went to Hogwarts. The pieces had always been quite fond of Ginny.  
  
"Ron . . ."  
  
"Now don't you say anything." Ron interrupted. "That damn set has always liked you more than me, and I need little competition around this place, so we gave it to you."  
  
"It's smashing, Ron." She hugged her brother tightly.  
  
"It was Hermione's idea." Ron murmured, hugging her back.  
  
"Well, you always have been my favourite brother."  
  
"Hey!" Fred said indignantly.  
  
"What?" George asked, stunned.  
  
"That hurts, Gin."  
  
"Right here." Both boys patted their chests over their hearts and bowed their heads, pouting.  
  
"You're right," she sighed. "Charlie's my favourite."  
  
"Hey!" All three Weasley boys snapped.  
  
"Well, let's have your present next then." She put out her hands to Fred and George.  
  
"I don't know if I want to give it to her now, George.  
  
"Well, I dunno. It's a big box and I don't really want to carry it back to our dorm . . ."  
  
"Just hand it over you duffers."  
  
"Fine, Fred said ducking down beside the bed. "Move your legs."  
  
Ginny obeyed, and moments later a massive box was dumped onto her bed. "What the---" The box was at least a metre tall and half as wide. "It isn't going to explode, is it?"  
  
"No!" Fred insisted.  
  
"When have we ever given anyone an exploding gift?"  
  
"To Percy, the summer before his first year. It turned his entire head green."  
  
"She's right about that one, Fred."  
  
"Well, what can we do?" Fred shrugged."  
  
"You promise it won't blow up then?" Ginny asked again.  
  
"Yes." They answered in unison.  
  
Ginny was cautious nonetheless. She leant back as she took the lid off the box. Nothing happened. She peered over the edge to find, what appeared to be, half a joke shop.  
  
"We've been hard at work." George said simply. "You just wait till Christmas."  
  
She reached carefully into the box and pulled out a smaller, yellow box with a picture of a toad on it and the words: 'Toad-in-a-box!' in what looked like George's untidy scrawl.  
  
"Who drew that?" Harry asked at the same time Ginny asked: "What IS all this?"  
  
"Dean Thomas drew it. And it's a self-replicating toad. George's idea."  
  
"Dean's doing all of the art for our stuff." Fred said.  
  
"Don't take the toad out until you're ready to use him, Gin. It starts replicating the moment it touches the floor.  
  
  
  
  
---  
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       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	21. Chapter 21: Hogsmeade, the beggining

Xenith  
  
  
  
"No great improvements in the lot of mankind are possible, until a great change takes place in the fundamental constitution of their modes of thought."  
~~~John Stuart Mill  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-one  
  
  
  
  
"So denied, so I lied . . ." Fred sang softly to himself as he and George made there way toward Hogsmeade right after breakfast, Fred scribbling on a small pad of parchment with their newest product. "Are you the now or never kind? In a day and a day---"  
  
"You know, I wouldn't mind a little help with this." George said, his voice slightly muffled by the boxes he was balancing in his arms.  
  
"Umm-huh." Fred replied, not really having heard and he went on singing to himself and scribbling on the pad. "---love. I'm going to be gone for good again . . ."  
  
"Tell me again why we couldn't bring these quills last night?"  
  
"You said they were too heavy." Fred bit his lip and continued to hum to himself. "We're here." Fred pushed open the door for his brother and followed George into the interior of the joke shop.  
  
"Who's there?" A girl shouted from the back.  
  
"It's just us!" George called back, setting the boxes on the front counter.  
  
"Oh!" A girl pretty girl with short, bouncy, blond hair had immerged from the depths of the shoppe. "Fred, right? Or is it George?"   
  
"George." George said, grinning at her.  
  
"You've got more tricks for us?" She opened the top box and peered inside.  
  
"Quills, George?" She raised a perfect golden eyebrow at him.   
  
"Not just quills," Fred said, tucking his own behind his ears and the pad in his back pocket. "Self-inking, invisible, _password_ quills.  
  
"Elaborate."  
  
"The ink only reveals itself to select viewers. Unless you have the password, that is. Self-inking explains itself really."  
  
"Wow."  
  
  
  
  
---   
  
  
  
  
"So, you don't like Ron then?" Lavender asked as the three girls dressed in their dormitory for the Hogsmeade trip that day.  
  
"Why?" Hermione asked, watching Lavender's reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair.  
  
"Because," Lavender giggled uncontrollably. "Because you're going into Hogsmeade with Malcolm Anders today!"  
  
"Yeah, well---" She tossed her brush onto her bed and pulled her hair back onto a curl-filled pony-tail.   
  
"What's Ron's favourite colour?" Parvati interrupted, hands on her hips as she surveyed her wardrobe.  
  
"Why?" She turned to the dark-haired girl.  
  
"Because he's gotten quite cute this year and I want to impress him now that you don't have a claim on him."  
  
Hermione spun away from her and didn't answer.  
  
"So, what's his favourite colour?"  
  
"Maroon."   
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"Come on Ron," Harry said, pulling the jumper Mrs Weasley had made him the previous year over his head. "I need a butterbeer. It's been a long week."  
  
"I don' want to go." Ron said, stamping his foot and looking like a six foot tall two year-old.  
  
"You've got to be jesting me, Ron! You we're just talking to her yesterday in Ginny's dorm!"  
  
"That doesn't mean a thing and you know it."  
  
"Ron I really need that butterbeer and I'll go with or without you. I'd rather go with."  
  
"Hermione's going to be there with _him_."   
  
"And on the next trip she's going to be there with you."  
  
"But that's not till after Christmas."  
  
"And that gives you two months to ask her."  
  
"And two months for her to start dating _him_."  
  
"Ron." Harry said his voice warning. "I really need that butterbeer. I'm going NOW." He strode out of the dorm, knowing Ron would follow.  
  
"Wait up Harry!" Ron called from within. Ron bounded out of the dormitory yanking on a blue, ribbed turtleneck, the same colour of his eyes, which Harry knew Hermione had given him for his last birthday. Harry grinned and shook his head. Ron was truly hopeless. "Should we stop at the kitchens and get some food for Snuffles?" Ron said when he had caught up to Harry and they had left the empty tower, everyone else long gone.  
  
"No," Harry's face was drawn as he spoke of his godfather. "He's out with Professor Lupin. On assignment."  
  
"Oh, sorry Harry." Ron said softly. "I should have remembered."  
  
"S'alright."  
  
"Have you heard from him since he left last year?"  
  
"Once, on my birthday."  
  
"Good." Ron knew not to press any further. "Hey! You know what?" Ron said excitedly, bouncing next to him on the balls of his feet as they made their way down the grand marble staircase to the Entrance Hall.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't tell my mum, but Fred and George bought out a quarter of Zonko's!"  
  
"What?!" Harry stopped on the stairs outside the castle and turned on Ron.  
  
"They did! They came into some gold, though I don't think I want to know how, and bought a quarter of the Zonko's on Hogsmeade. They even have some of their stuff in it."  
  
"That's incredible!" Harry smiled again, knowing exactly where the money had come from. "They have their jokes there?"  
  
"Yeah! They snuck a shipment up yesterday afternoon so it would be there for the students today. Zonko's is only taking ten percent of each sale."  
  
"Do you know what any of it is?"  
  
"Most of it's the stuff they gave Ginny yesterday, I think."  
  
"Let's stop there after The Three Broomsticks."  
  
"Right."  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Hermione." Malcolm said as she walked up to him at the foot of the stair in the Entrance Hall.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"You look great."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
---  
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           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	22. Chapter 22: Finally!

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
"The smile on your face lets me know that you need me   
There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me.  
The touch of you hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall   
You say it best when say nothing at all."  
  
~~~'When You Say Nothing at All' by Alison Krauss  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-two  
  
  
  
  
  
"Sorry." Ron apologized, knocking into a tall, dark-haired boy of about nineteen as they entered The Three Broomsticks. The boy grunted, gray eyes darting first to Ron and then to Harry. Harry's scar began to throb. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead.  
  
"You all right, Harry?" Ron asked, turning away from the door and to his friend.  
  
"Yeah, it's just my scar . . ." The handsome, dark-haired boy smirked and swept from the pub, black cloak billowing.  
  
"That's not good." Ron said, sitting Harry down at the nearest table.  
  
"No, it's just . . ." he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gather his thoughts as Ron steered him to the bar, signalling to Madam Rosemerta to bring them two Butterbeers. "It shouldn't hurt like this . . . it's been aching since the end of last year . . . but it's not supposed to be like this . . ."   
  
"Here, Harry," Ron plunked a large, frothy Butterbeer in front of Harry and took his hands off of his forehead and onto his drink. "He's not here. He can't be."  
  
"He can't be."  
  
"Right, so bottoms up." Ron finished, drowning his false confidence in his warm pint.   
  
An icy fall breeze swept through the pub as two more students bustled in. Hermione and Malcolm.  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"George, I'm going to go back up to the castle. I'm tired."  
  
"Sure, I can handle things here." He sent a wicked grin at the blonde behind the counter. She rolled her eyes and continued with the customer before her. "You sure you're okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I just need some time alone."  
  
"Oh, all right."  
  
Fred nodded to his brother and the blonde and made his way though the crowd of students and out of Zonko's.  
  
  
  
  
By the time Fred made his way back to the castle the sun was setting and the lake was glowing pinks and reds. He had planed on heading up to his dormitory and actually doing his homework (monster Potions test Monday) but the lake was calling to him and there was always the chance of running into Chris near Hagrid's hut.  
  
He took the short way around the lake and found himself face to face with a enormous dragon much sooner than he expected. He hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going and had nearly run into the unpenned beast. He leapt back as the dragon turned its sleepy, beach-ball sized, purple eyes on Fred.   
  
"Hello there." He said awkwardly, backing slowly away from the worm.  
  
"Hmmm," he heard a sleepy voice say from behind the dragon. "Who's there?"  
  
"Chris?" Fred said, circling around the giant dragon till he saw Chris nestled against the dragon's side with her tiny Feather sleeping on her chest. "What are you doing?"   
  
"Sleeping." She replied, sitting up a bit.   
  
"Isn't that a bit of a dangerous place to sleep?"  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"So, who's this?" He nodded toward the dragon.  
  
"Padmé." She grinned at her own private joke.  
  
"Where'd you get that name from?"  
  
"A movie I saw once."  
  
"Movie?"  
  
"Never-mind. Come sit with me." She scooted forward and patted the ground behind her. He cocked a crimson eyebrow at her and didn't move. "She won't hurt you."  
  
"Promise?  
  
"Promise."  
  
Fred crossed to the dragon and seated himself behind her, ignoring the glare the small black was shooting him from her chest and focusing on the feel of Chris sinking against him.  
  
"This is cozy." He said, snaking his arms around her and pulling her closer against his body. "I can see how you fell asleep. What breed is it?"  
  
"She's a cross breed between the Romanian Longhorn and the Peruvian Vipertooth. The Vipertooths are notorious for their small size and swift flight, and the Longhorns for their horns. The Longhorns are going extinct so we've been breeding them for quite some time. She gets the scarlet from the Vipertooth and the blue from the Longhorn. Isn't she beautiful?" Her face went soft as the end of the dragon's black spiked tail rested itself in her lap. "The fangs are still extremely venomous but she'd never hurt anything unless provoked. The brilliance of ten years of training." She grinned her lopsided grin and Fred felt his knees go weak.  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"So," Ron said as he, Harry, and Hermione sat in the library that night as they finished up their homework. "Did he kiss you?"  
  
"I don't see how that's any of your business." Hermione snapped, not looking at him.  
  
"Did he?" Ron pressed nonetheless.  
  
"He tried."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And I didn't let him."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good?" She finally looked to the red-head beside her.  
  
"Yeah, he's not allowed."  
  
"And who, may I ask, is?"  
  
"Certainly not him, or _Vicky_."  
  
"And what about Seamus? Or Dean? Or even Harry?"  
  
"Harry!? You fancy Harry!?" Ron leapt from his seat, knocking over his ink well.  
  
"I do NOT---"  
  
"It's always been Harry hasn't it? Malcolm and Dean and Seamus and Vicky and HARRY! You're just a scarlet woman! Aren't you!?" He shouted.  
  
"Ron! How dare you?!" Hermione cried, leaping to her feet, her cheeks flushing in fury.  
  
"Ron, calm down, she doesn't like me." Harry hissed from across the table, trying in vain to hide behind 'The Fastest Game' by Maximus Brankovitch III.  
  
"You know what?!" Ron said, completely ignoring Harry. "I'm leaving! I don't need this!"  
  
"You don't need this!" Hermione shouted at his retreating back. "You STARTED this!" Hermione spun back to Harry, eyes blazing. "Ughh! Honestly . . . he's absolutely . . . ridiculous!" She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly.   
  
"Go after him." Harry sighed, not raising his eyes from the book in front of him.  
  
"Really?" She brought her hand to her mouth and gnawed on her nail, her anger dissipating immediately.   
  
"Go."  
  
Hermione dashed from the library, hair flying and Madam Pince scowling after her.   
  
"Ron!" She called, running down the corridor after the speck of ginger she saw hurrying around the corner. "Ron! Please wait!"   
  
"No!" She heard him shout from around the corner.  
  
"Ron, you stop this instant or . . . or I'll owl your mother!"  
  
"You wouldn't dare." She rounded the corner and saw that Ron had stopped half-way down the corridor.  
  
"Oh wouldn't I." She replied stopping as he came into view.  
  
"Herm---"  
  
"Ron---"  
  
They started at the same time.  
  
"You first." Hermione said.  
  
"I didn't mean any of that, Herm." Ron said running his fingers through his already rumpled hair.  
  
"I know."  
  
"It's just hard."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Other boys AREN'T supposed to fancy you, Herm."  
  
"And why's that?" She took a few steps closer to him.  
  
"Because . . . they just aren't." He said, closing the distance between them. "Especially not Harry."  
  
"Ron," she reached up and touched his face. He flushed, leaning unconsciously into her caress. "It's always been you. Never Harry."  
  
Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. It was a quick and thorough kiss, over almost before Hermione had a chance to realise what was happening. She closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, but Ron had already pulled away.  
  
"Sorry." He murmured, turning away.  
  
"No, it's all right." She whispered, pulling him back to her.  
  
"Really?" He asked, a smile crashing on to his face as he peered down at her.  
  
"Really." Hermione pulled Ron against herself. She took his face in her hands and kissed him again, falling against the wall and smiling against Ron's mouth as he wound his arms around her.  
  
"I like this." Ron said softly, pulling back and running his fingers through her hair. "This is how it's supposed to be."  
  
"I know." She grinned up at him.  
  
"I'm sorry . . . about not asking you to a butterbeer today. Or to the ball last Christmas."   
  
She laughed. "I know."  
  
"So why'd you go with Malcolm today? And Vick---Victor?"  
  
"To try and make you jealous. Make you ask me out sooner."  
  
"Sorry about that too. I was a bit thick."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"Are you two done yet?" Harry interrupted from the end of the corridor, making them jump apart. "Because it's getting late, and Snape's going to be patrolling the halls any minute now." Harry was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, 'The Fastest Game' tucked in his arms, and smiling slyly as if he was used to seeing Hermione folded in Ron's lanky arms.  
  
"Harry?" Ron said shakily, running his fingers though his hair and shrugging closer to Hermione.  
  
"Come along little love birds." He snapped his fingers and waved the two over. "Gryffindor tower. Chop chop." He turned and led the way to their dormitory.  
  
Ron and Hermione blushed furiously and followed. Ron snaking his hand into Hermione's.  
  
  
---  
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       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	23. Chapter 23: Halloween

Xenith  
  
  
  
  
"The more you know, the more you know you don't know."  
~~~Unknown  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-three  
  
  
  
  
Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
  
In the past i was asked to report it to you when my scar hurt, more then usual that is, and it pained me slightly yesterday in the Three Broomsticks. I had a few butterbeers and forgot to report it to you immediately. It has been a constant headache since the conclusion of the last school year and I viewed this as just a spike. It was probably nothing.   
  
My sincerest apologies for not reporting this sooner,  
  
Harry Potter  
  
  
  
"That sounds awfully formal, Harry." Hermione said, handing the letter back to him.  
  
"I know." He folded the letter nevertheless and secured it to Hedwig's leg, watching her fly out of a large picture window in the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Why don't you just go talk to him?"  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"Harry---"  
  
"Drop it Herm."  
  
"Halloween's tomorrow." Ron changed the subject.  
  
"Should be a fun night." Hermione agreed. "I hear there's going to be dancing."  
  
"I don't think I'm going to go." Harry said quietly.  
  
"What!?" The two shouted in unison.  
  
"I don't think I'm going to go." He repeated. "I don't really want to."  
  
"Harry . . ."  
  
"No, Hermione." Harry said sternly. "No."  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
31 October  
  
  
  
  
"We should have made him come with us, Ron." Hermione said quietly under the noise of the merry-makers.   
  
"We can't, Herm. He's training." Ron replied just as quietly.  
  
"What sort of training?"  
  
"He didn't want to tell you because he knew you would worry."  
  
"And why shouldn't I? What they're doing his too much!"  
  
"I know, but it has to be done."  
  
"No it doesn't. They're putting too much pressure on him."  
  
"Yes, but we can't do anything about it."  
  
"I don't understand why it has to be like this, Ron. It's not fair." She looked on the verge of crying.  
  
"Yeah." He took her hand in his beneath the table.  
  
"He's too young for this. He's not ready, we're not ready."  
  
"That's why he has too do this."  
  
"But what about you? And me?"  
  
"Come-on, Herm, let's get out of here."  
  
"All right."  
  
Ron led Hermione out of the Hall and out of the castle. They sat down next to one another on the massive granite steps of the school. Hermione shivered and Ron wrapped his arm about her.   
  
"Harry, has run head long into his destiny, Herm. There's nothing we can do for him but help him where ever we can along the way."  
  
"You're helping but I haven't done anything for him in ages. i don't know how to help him, Ron, and that kills me!" She was crying.  
  
"I'm not supposed to tell you this . . ."  
  
"Ron, what is it?"  
  
"Dumbledore was supposed to tell you before, but he's been quite busy with Harry lately that I guess he forgot . . ."  
  
"Stop stalling."  
  
Ron took a deep breath and said: "Dumbledore passed down the information to me now and you are going to be developing, what is potentially, Harry's only hope."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You attended that meeting the other night because Dumbledore was going to explain why we need you. You're the best witch Hogwarts has seen since Lily Potter, and now you're even surpassing her. When she was Head Girl."  
  
"No I'm not." Hermione blushed, wiping the tears from her face, and turning away from Ron.  
  
"Yes, you are." Ron took her face in one of his large, freckled hands and turned her back to him. "And because of your blatantly obvious magical potential, McGonagall wants you to help her with something."  
  
"What is it Ron?"  
  
"Well, as you know, You-Know-Who can't be killed by a simple Avada Kedavra, so McGonagall has been working on a couple of theories as to how he can be defeated. She thinks that if we could convince a Dementor to suck the soul from him then we could kill him."  
  
"A Dementor would never do anything like that. Dumbledore said they're going to throw their support behind him the moment he asks."  
  
"I know, but going with that theory, McGonagall believes that we could defeat him."  
  
"But there's no spell that can do something like that. Suck the should from a person, i mean."  
  
"That's why she want's you."  
  
"She want's me to help develop a spell that will literally SUCK the soul out of a person so that we would be able to destroy them? That's terrible!" Ron nodded. "And who would perform such a horrible thing? Dumbledore?"  
  
"Harry."  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
  
"Oh!" Chris laughed, letting a slightly tipsy Fred ambush her and pin her against the wall near her quarters. "Fred!"  
  
"Mmmmm, you smell good." He murmured, burying his face in her neck.  
  
"Are you pissed?" She laughed as he sucked at a pressure point on her neck.  
  
"A bit," He lifted her from the ground and she wrapped her legs around him. "What's the password?"  
  
"Anarchy." She murmured, locking her mouth onto Fred's neck and bowing to the inevitable.  
  
  
The portrait opened and Fred tripped inside, knocking over a stool in their haste to rid one another of their clothing. Fred and Chris fell onto her bed. Fred pulled back for a moment, drinking in all of Chris's heaving, half-naked body in one long, lingering look.   
  
"Halloween has _definitely_ become my favourite holiday." He grinned wickedly.   
  
Chris laughed and pulled Fred back to her.  
  
---  
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           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	24. Chapter 24: Adaios amigos?

Xenith   
  
  
  
  
"Humanity does not ask us to be happy. It merely asks us to be brilliant on its behalf. Survival first, then happiness as we can manage it."  
~~~Orson Scott Card: 'Ender's Game  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Twenty-four  
  
  
  
  
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said at the end of her Advanced Transfiguration class. "A moment please?" Hermione held back from her departing classmates and approached the professor's desk.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" She asked, perching her books on the edge of the desk.  
  
"I believe Mr Weasley has already informed you of what I am about to propose?"  
  
"I believe so, Professor."  
  
"And what are your thoughts on that?"   
  
"Well, I haven't had a chance to go to the library yet, so I'm not exactly sure."  
  
Professor McGonagall let a rare grin creep across her mouth. "Miss Granger, you are the brightest witch I've come across in years and I am quite glad that you have chosen to move ahead of some of your friends in regards to this class, but I do not believe that you are reaping any benefit from being in it."  
  
"Professor!"   
  
"Listen to what I am saying Miss Granger, the Headmaster and I would greatly appreciate your help in the development of the spell Mr Weasley informed you of on Halloween. Professor Flitwick has this period open and we would like it very much if you would spend this time working with him."  
  
"But Professor, what about my OWLs!? This is my favourite class; I was looking forward to it!" Hermione cried, torn between the opportunity Professor McGonagall was presenting and the tests she'd been looking forward to for ages.  
  
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall laughed. "I understand your desire to do your very best on your OWLs, but I believe that this matter is more worthy of your attention. But either way this is your choice to make."  
  
"Why don't you just call in a professional charmer?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Because the only known professional charmer was killed in the attack at Gringotts; she was setting up protection charms. Because of this the bank defenses were less and it gave an opening for You-Know-Who to launch an attack. He knew of her work there and of how dangerous she could be if enlisted by Dumbledore." Hermione was quiet, it was the first time anyone had mentioned the attack in weeks and the only time anyone had really explained what had happened. Even the Prophet hadn't gone into great detail.   
  
"Alright," Hermione nodded. "I'll do my best."  
  
"Good. You are to meet Professor Flitwick in your usual Chaarms classroom and he will then then take you somewhere where there will not be the chance of you being overheard. Mr Weasley has told you the theories that we have been working on?"  
  
"Yes, Professsor."  
  
"And you are currently enrolled in an Arithmacy class?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Very good, I must admit that mathematics is not my forte and the Headmaster is loathe to involve many more people in this project. He was quite wary to even involve you, but we needed your help in this matter."  
  
"Please Professor, I don't think I understand. Why would you need me? Surely there are more experienced wizards out there who would be more then willing to help."  
  
"I am afraid that that is something I cannot tell you at the moment. This room has not been secured."  
  
"Yes Professor."  
  
"You may go now."  
  
"Thank you." And she scurried from the classroom, late for Herbology.  
  
  
  
  
"Hermione!" Ron hissed at her as she slid into her seat between her two best friends; mumbling a hurried apology to Professor Sprout.  
  
"It was about what you told me on Halloween, Ron." She whispered back.  
  
"What'd he tell you on Halloween?" Harry asked from Hermione's other side.  
  
Hermione looked to Ron for her answer, he shook his head. "We can't say yet, Harry." Ron answered for her.  
  
"What? Why?" Harry asked dropping his sheers on the Dancing Dandelion (more commonly known as the 'Daemon Dandelion' among the students) he was pruning. "This is about me, isn't it?"  
  
"Not everything we talk about has to do with you, Harry Potter." Hermione said, taking up her own sheers and going at the Daemon.  
  
"Yeah, but this is." Ron added unhelpfully.  
  
"And I can't know because . . ?" He folded his arms and turned fully on Ron and Hermione, the whole look of him quite imposing in and of itself. Ron wondered vaguely if Harry was aware of it.  
  
"You'll know, but not now. There are too many students. The area isn't secure." Ron's eyes rested momentarily on Malfoy.  
  
"Alright, but---" Harry cut off as the Dancing Dandelion lunged at him, it's cleverly hidden fangs elongating as it sailed through the air. Harry's eyes widened as his left hand flew out in front of him to block the plant as the other dipped into his robes for his wand. He needn't have bothered with the wand, however, because the Dandelion had halted in mid air, inches away from his outstretched palm. The plant began to writhe and scream its queer high-pitched call when it found its prey had outwitted it and it could not get back to its pot and comrades.  
  
"Harry, put it down!" Hermione hissed, trying to block Harry from the rest of the class, Ron moving to his other side to attempt the same. "People are starting to look.  
  
"I can't!" Harry hissed back, shaking his hand in effort to dislodge the screaming plant, only to make the problem worse as the Dancing Dandelion screamed all the more.  
  
"Mr Potter! What are you doing?" Professor Sprout called across the greenhouse as she made her way through the tables of students to the three Gryffindors.  
  
"Nothing." The three answered in unison, Harry dropping the hand with the Dandelion below the table.   
  
"Lift your hand, Mr Potter." She directed, hands on her hips.  
  
"He can't," Hermione piped up.  
  
"I won't ask you again."  
  
"Do you think you might dismiss the class before I do?" Harry asked meekly, taking note of the fifth years now eyeing him.  
  
"No, lift your hand."  
  
Harry did as he was told, lifting his hand, the Daemon Dandelion coming up with it.  
  
"What have you done!?" Her face paled as she saw her precious plant screaming and thrashing in fright and hovering in front of his hand.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure, Professor." Harry said honestly.  
  
"Well, put'em down, then."  
  
"Professor, I don't believe he can." Hermione said.  
  
"Never mind," Professor Sprout said, pulling on her dragon-hide gloves and reaching for the plant. Her fingers curled around the flower and she pulled at it with all her might to no avail. "Potter, go to the hospital wing. I have no idea what you've done but perhaps Madam Pomfrey will be able to remove him." Harry didn't move. "Go, get along!"  
  
"Professor . . ?" Ron asked.  
  
"Go, go!" She said, shooing Ron and Hermione out after him. "And don't be late again, Miss Granger!"  
  
"I won't!" Hermione called over her shoulder as they rushed out onto the grounds after Harry---who was moving surprisingly fast over the grass, the wind catching and sending a small twister of leaves to soaring beneath him, picking up his robes and sending them swirling about his body. Hermione was struck, for a moment, by how positively stunning Harry looked striding away over the castle grounds. She paused, and watched as Ron ran to caught up with Harry and spun him around, saying something Hermione couldn't hear, and looked just as magnificent. And then it hit her, they looked so positively stunning because they looked like adults. Like men.  
  
And they were. They really were.  
  
And just as soon as it happened the illusion was shattered. Harry started swinging his arm around, trying desperately to free the flowered creature.   
  
"Hermione!" Ron called.   
  
"Herm, I wouldn't mind a bit of help here!" Harry added.  
  
"Coming!" and she trotted over to her two friends.  
  
Ron had wrapped the sleeves of his robes around his hand and was motioning for Hermione to do the same. "Come on, Herm, we have to handle this."  
  
"Why us? Why can't we just go up to Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, wrapping her hands nonetheless.  
  
"Because Harry doesn't want to." Ron growled, wrapping his hands around the still screaming Dandelion.  
  
"Ron . . ."  
  
"Harry doesn't WANT to. Now come on."  
  
Hermione grabbed hold of the top of the flower, her robes, thankfully, quieting the screaming.  
  
"Now, on three," Harry and Hermione nodded. "Make sure you focus all of you magic on forcing the Daemon away, Harry. One . . . two . . . three!" The three Gryffindors pulled and pushed as hard as the possibly could and dislodged the plant, falling to the grass with a grunt and a thud.  
  
Ron leapt to his feet and hurled the Dancing Dandelion into the lake.  
  
"Now, would you care to explain what just happened, Harry?" He demanded.  
  
"I don't know, Ron. Stuff like that's been happening for the past few weeks." He brought his legs up and propped his elbow on them, head sagging. "I can't control it, and I'm not getting any sleep, or any homework done . . ." he trailed off, running his finger unconsciously over his scar.  
  
"Harry, you have to talk to us. Why aren't you sleeping?" Hermione asked, crawling over to min.  
  
"There's so much I have to do, I don't get back to the dorm till two or three every morning."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I'm training."  
  
"Harry," she crouched in front of him, putting her hand beneath his chin and turning his face up. "You don't have to do this. It's not your responsibility."  
  
Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering.   
  
"Yes, I do, Herm." He said finally.  
  
"It's not right for them to be putting so much pressure on you." Ron said, coming up behind Hermione and putting his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"They've got no-one else."  
  
"They've got everyone else." Hermione tried to sooth him, resting her hand on his cheek.  
  
"No, Hermione, they don't." Harry locked his eyes with her's and continued in his tragic tones. "Dumbledore told me so. The reason Voldemort was after my parents in the first place was because he knew that my dad would be able to defeat him."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"It's part of the Potter bloodline. There's something in our blood that gives us an upper hand in matters such as this."  
  
"Then why didn't your dad kill him when he, you know, in Godricks Hallow?" Ron asked.  
  
"Because, whatever it is inside us, my dad had never tapped into; that's why Voldemort, was able to kill . . . kill him." He choked out.  
  
"You don't have to tell us, Harry, it's alright." Ron said softly.  
  
"No, I need to," He took a deep breath and continued. "When Voldemort tried to kill me too it was instinct that allowed me to tap into that special source of power that seems to run through the Potter line. I was so young that what I did---was able to do---was automatic. I can't remember how I did it though, so I have to train." Harry sighed. "But now Voldemort can't be killed with a simple 'Avada Kedavra', there has to be something else. But there IS nothing else. How can you kill something that has managed to make itself virtually immortal?" Hermione moved her hand to Harry's and gripped it tight, startling Harry and making him look at her for the first time.  
  
"That's what we couldn't tell you in the greenhouses, Harry," she said. "Professor's McGonagall and Flitwick have been working on several theories on how we might be able to finally kill You-Know-Who once and for all."  
  
"What? How?"  
  
"Well, the details are far from worked out yet, but they've requested my assistance."  
  
"Why you? Why not a professional charmer, or something?" Harry said, not wanting to involve his two best friends anymore then they already were.  
  
"That's what I asked too, but Professor McGonagall told me the last known one was killed in the attack a few weeks ago and that I'm the most promising substitute available."  
  
"I don't want you to do this, Herm." Harry said solemnly. "You don't have to do this . . . you don't have to get involved in this."  
  
"Harry, I---we---got involved in this the moment you two saved me from that troll. The moment we became friends."  
  
"Then maybe---" Harry choked out, his eyes shining. "---maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."  
  
"Harry!" Ron snapped, eyes sharp.  
  
---  
  
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	25. Chapter 25: Not so fast

Xenith  
Chapter Twenty-five  
Hermione felt sick. Harry couldn't mean it, could he? Why would he not want to be friends with them? Well Hermione knew very well what the answer to that would be . . . if she dared ask.   
  
Harry was trying to protect them by pushing them away. He didn't know any other way to keep them safe. This was so much like the conversation on the train ride to school in which Harry had stormed out on them.  
  
Which Harry seemed to be about to do now.  
  
Harry pulled away from Hermione, took a deep breath and started walking back towards the castle.  
  
"Remember what I said I would do if he ever did this to us again, Hermione?" Ron growled, ice blue eyes narrowing dangerously.  
  
"That if he disappears on you once more this year you were going to pound him?"   
  
"Yeah, that's it." Ron took a deep breath and tore after his best friend, there was no way Harry was going to get out of this that easily.  
  
Harry heard the feet pounding the ground behind him, he wouldn't turn, couldn't turn.  
  
He should've turned.   
  
Moments later he found himself grunting as the wind was knocked out of him and he fell hard to the grass.   
  
Ron had bull rushed him.  
  
"Geroff Ron!" He managed out, even though his face was smashed into the dirt and he could hardly breathe.  
  
"No. You may be too much of a hero to realise this, but you need us." Ron took hold of Harry's wrists and held them behind his back as he sat on him.  
  
"I'm no hero, Ron. I'm just damn lucky."  
  
"Then why are you doing this? Huh? Explain that one to me, Golden Boy."  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Well, explain then."  
  
"Get off!"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'm doing it because I don't know what else to do!" Harry cried. "I'm fifteen years old! I can barely charm my way out of a dinner invitation and I'm expected to save the whole fucking world! Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"   
  
Ron and Hermione were shocked into silence. It was the first time Harry had ever admitted to being lost and helpless. The first time they realised what it was Dumbledore, and they, were asking of him. Even if they told Harry that he didn't have to do this, they still, somewhere deep down, believed that he would. That one teenaged boy would save them all.   
  
Harry was crying now, his tears mixing with the dirt and leaving dark streaks down his cheeks. Harry didn't like crying; didn't like how it made him feel, how helpless he felt when he did so. But mostly because it made him feel ashamed. He wished Ron would go away. He wished everyone would go away.  
  
Ron got carefully off of Harry and grabbed hold of Hermione's hand the instant she appeared at his side. He didn't know what to do anymore than Harry did, but he had someone to hang onto---Harry had nothing, no one.  
  
Harry pressed his head into the dirt and rolled his knees under his body, hugging himself close. He could taste the dirt and tears in his mouth but he couldn't stop. He was crying for everything now; crying for Cedric, crying for his parents, crying for his world, but most of all---crying for himself.  
  
He may only be fifteen but he was an adult. He had never had a childhood with the Dursleys and the vanquishing of Voldemort kin the previous years had made it certain that he'd never have one here either. He could hardly remember a time in the past four years when he wasn't fighting Voldemort. And now he was being _trained_ to do exactly that.  
  
Now, he was Dumbledore's nuclear bomb.   
Harry had finally cried himself out and rolled onto his side, eyes closed. He didn't want to have to look at Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Harry . . ." Hermione started softly after a few moments.  
  
"Harry," Ron said just as softly. "We're . . . we're sorry, we didn't know."  
  
Harry didn't reply. Ron wondered if he'd passed out.  
  
"We knew, we just didn't understand." Hermione corrected.  
  
"No one does." Harry said in such a small voice the two Gryffindors almost missed it.  
  
"You're right, Harry," Hermione fell to her knees a metre away from where he lay. "We can't," Ron knelt beside her. "There's no way we can even imagine what it is you're going through and will be going through."  
  
"But you don't have to do it alone," Ron said. "You think you'd be able to get rid of us that easily, did you?" Ron gave a halfhearted attempt at a Weasley grin.  
  
"I don't want anything to happen to you two."  
  
"And we don't want anything to happen to you!" Hermione implored. "But we've entered into something we can't stop, Harry. We're going to war and there's no way you can protect us by leaving us. We're in danger already and if we have to fight we'd rather fight with you by our sides."  
  
Harry dragged himself into a sitting position and wiped his face off on the hem of his robes. "I'd rather have you two there too." He said quietly, trying his best to smile. "You know, I don't know what I'd do without you two."  
  
"Yeah, well we don't know what you'd do either." Ron joked, pulling Harry to his feet and throwing one arm of Harry's shoulder and the other over Hermione's. "Come on, all this drama has made me hungry."  
  
"Ron, you just ate an hour ago!" Hermione scoffed.  
  
"I'm a growing boy and therefore need to be fed more often."  
  
Harry just smiled, he was a bit hungry too.  
---  
  
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	26. Chapter 26: Brothers

Xenith   
Brothers:  
  
He'll beat you up,  
He'll steal your candy,  
But in the end  
He's always handy!  
  
~~~Unknown  
Chapter Twenty-six  
"Now, don't be frightened," Chris warned, holding her wand out behind her and well above her head. "She's quite big, but next to harmless at the moment."  
  
"NEXT to harmless, Professor?" One of the Hufflepuffs asked shakily.   
  
"She is a guard worm, Miss Brackett, and therefore deadly in her own rite, but at the moment she's quite content and therefore quite safe." Chris waved her wand at the 'empty' space behind her. Moments later the space behind her was taken over by the biggest dragon any of them had ever seen.  
  
The dragon peered curiously down at the class of seventh years.  
  
"Is that allowed on school property?" The Hufflepuff asked again.   
  
"She's here, isn't she?" Mat snarled in his usual quite tones.  
  
"Yes, she's allowed," Chris over rode her brother.  
  
"We aren't going to have to ride it, are we?"   
  
"No, and we aren't even going to be learning much about her. She is a guard dragon and as such her secrets are highly guarded by her caretakers. She is just here today to show you how big a dragon can actually be."   
  
"Please, Professor," the Ravenclaw Head Girl asked, raising her hand as she spoke. "What's the point of this lesson?"  
  
"Well---" Chris began.  
  
"There is no point," Mat cut in. "We don't know what to teach. We're not 'Professors'---we're not even adults!"  
  
"Then why isn't Professor Grubbly Plank substituting if Hagrid can't? She did last year."  
  
"Because she died, from old age, at the end of this summer and we were going to be here anyway, so we got landed with it; Chris and I, because we're the youngest."  
  
"Don't you have a twin?" Fred asked, a sly grin creeping its way across his mouth  
  
"Don't start on me, Weasley. I'm not in the mood," Mat snapped, wiping the grin from Fred's face. The class was in shock. Not only was their teacher admitting defeat but they had never, ever, heard Mat speak so much at one time.  
  
"Er . . ." Chris stammered, eyes darting from her brother to the Seventh-years. "Class dismissed, get back to the castle." The class didn't move. "Go!"  
  
The majority of the class scurried away from the pseudo-Professors and up to the castle, Fred and George, of course, did not. They hung back as Chris grabbed Mat's hand and pulled him to the back of Hagrid's hut. If that wasn't an invitation to listen in the Weasley twins didn't know what was. They moved within earshot of the two siblings.  
  
"Mat, what in bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Chris demanded of her mulish brother.   
  
"We're not professors, Chrissy! This is a joke, this whole thing." Mat cried more frustrated now then they had ever heard him.  
  
"I know, Mat, but we have to do it, there's no-one else for it."  
  
"Can you honestly tell me that you're enjoying teaching? We're trained warriors, for Merlin's sake! We're not meant to educate. We didn't even GO to school, how are we expected to teach them anything."  
  
"We're only expected to give them a class and give them an exam---"  
  
"We're not even going to be here at exam time!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, we're not even going to be here at exam time. Look at this," he thrust a letter into her hand.  
  
"'Dear children," she read aloud from the parchment. "'You are needed. I will be by again to collect you and the worms not on guard. Be ready. Your Father.'" She finished. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?" She thundered, throwing the letter back at her brother. "And why wasn't I told before now?"  
  
"I was going to tell you after class and that is our orders to fight."  
  
"Fight what? There's only guard work available."  
  
"They're pulling any of the guards with war time training and or experience off duty and setting them at more _strategic_ locations."  
  
"And we're just expected to drop everything and go?"  
  
"Yes, it's our real job, you know, not just some ridiculous teaching position." Chris was silent. "Why, why would you want to stay? It's him, isn't it?" Mat answered himself.  
  
"No."  
  
"It is. I know you better then you know yourself, Chrissy. Don't try lying to me."  
  
"He's just fun, that's all."  
  
"If he's just fun then why are you blushing?"  
  
"I am not."  
  
"You are," he cupped her scared cheek and turned her face up to his own. "Chrissy, we've been through so much together," he said, indicating his own scar. "Only us, none of those other idiot boys we call our brothers, and I can tell when you fancy someone," she smiled her lop-sided smile. "I can also tell when you're longing for something more. You can choose whether or not you want to come with us when the time comes, just don't let some prat make you stay. This'll sound really cliché but, if it's meant to be then you'll see him when all this is done with." He knocked her chin and pulled her into his arms.  
  
"I . . . can't . . . breathe . . ." She choaked out.  
  
"Yeah, shudd-up," he ruffled her hair and was making to leave but turned back to her and added: "I'm not teaching anymore classes, by the way."   
  
---  
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	27. Chapter 27: Nightmares

Xenith  
---  
"Terror lies in the night."  
---  
Chapter Twenty-seven  
---  
Quidditch Practice was a cold, dreary affair. It was raining; Harry was exhausted and wanted to get a full night of restful, dreamless, sleep.  
  
But the dreams came, the dreams always came , and when he finally collapsed into bed and closed his eyes, a brilliant flash of green light seemed to envelope him.  
  
Flash.  
  
Cedric---dead.  
  
Flash.  
  
His parents were sprawled next to Cedric.  
  
Flash.  
  
Lord Voldemort came out of the shadows behind them. "Harry . . ." he whispered gruesomely. "I'm coming for you, Harry . . ." flash---Flash---FLASH! Now there were more dead bodies, Bertha Jorkins, the old man, Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Cho, Fred and George.  
  
"No!" He was screaming now but there wasn't any sound. The new bodies weren't killed by Avada Kedavra, they were tortured. Some were naked, bloody and bruised beyond recognition.  
  
"It'll all happen eventually, Harry Potter," Flash. More bodies, now it was Colin and Dennis Creevy, Dean and Seamus, Parvati, Padma, Neville---the bodies were coming so fast now and the green so blinding that he couldn't tell them apart. "Since I can't seem to get to you I'll take everyone you love first, everyone you know. One-by-one they'll all leave." The final flash of green came and atop the pile of corpses lay Albus Dumbledore. "Everyone who protects you will be mine."  
  
"No!" He shouted again. Harry tried desperately to lift his wand but his arm seemed attached to his side.  
  
"And you, Harry Potter, will be all alone and I will finally have you."  
Harry woke in a cold sweat, panting and wide awake; his blankets wrapped tightly around his aching body. He wrenched them off as he ran to the lavatory. Harry only made it to the tile floor before vomiting.  
It seemed like ages before dry heaves ripped through him and he finally collapsed.  
  
Harry hated the smell of vomit. It stung his eyes and nose as white hot tears began to trace their way down his cheeks. Harry was terrified. The nightmares had never made it that far. He'd never seen Dumbledore.  
Fred had been on his way to the kitchens for a late night snack when he'd passed the boys toilet when he heard the sobbing coming from within. Putting off his hunger, he pushed open the door to find a boy with black hair crumpled on the ground with a pool of vomit at his head.  
  
"Harry?" He asked tentatively.  
Harry hastily wiped at his tear stained face. The last thing he wanted was for one of the boys to see him like this.  
  
"Harry?" The boy asked again, Harry recognized the voice as either Fred's or George's (he wasn't sure which). "Harry, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," he didn't turn. "I'm fine."  
  
"You're sick, and crying."  
  
"No, I'm not. I'm fine."  
  
"There's throw-up on the ground and I heard you through the door. Come-on, Harry."  
  
"No."  
  
Fred knelt next to him anyway and, pointing his wand at Harry's mess, muttering under his breath: "Mopstidious Vomit." Harry let Fred turn to face him. "Are you okay? What happened?"  
  
"Sick . . . I guess. And you saw what happened."   
  
"Then why were you crying?"  
  
"I wasn't." Harry insisted  
  
"You know, I may seem like an idiot sometimes, but I'm really not all that dim, Harry."  
  
"Really, I'm fine." Harry tried to get to his feet but they no longer seemed capable of supporting his weight. Fred caught hold of Harry as they collapsed underneath him and brought him back to the cold floor. Harry shivered.  
  
"I'm taking you to the Hospital wing, you're ill."  
  
"I'm not ill, it's just---"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand."  
  
"Try me."  
  
"No, Ron doesn't even know." He tried standing again, his feet worked this time, and left the bathroom; Fred still sitting on the floor.  
Harry knew that he should go to Dumbledore but the thought of interrupting the Headmaster in the middle of the night wasn't a very appetising thought. So Harry made his way back to the boys' dormitories and onto the window ledge.  
  
Harry stuck his head out of the window and let the rain whip at his skin. //Why tonight?// The icy downpour tore at his cheeks. He took a shaky breath, letting the ice coat the back of his throat, extinguishing the vomit taste. //Why every night?//   
  
//It's nothing.// A hopeful voice in the back of his mind intoned.  
  
"It's nothing," Harry repeated aloud, convincing himself.  
  
Harry went back to his four-poster and pulled the curtains; hoping, more than anything, for the pounding in his scar to subside long enough for him to get a few hours of actual rest.  
  
---  
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	28. Chapter 28: History

Xenith  
---  
  
---  
Chapter Twenty-eight  
---  
"Chris!" Fred called, pushing his way through the swarms of students coming his way at the conclusion of breakfast the next morning. It was the first time he'd seen her and he needed to ask her something. "Chris!" He called again. She turned this time, hair fanning out behind her. Fred waved to her and she nodded towards a door heading off the Hall near the teachers table. Fred nodded his consent and was about to follow her through when he heard someone call his name from behind.  
  
"Fred!"  
  
It was Angelina.  
  
"Fred, wait up!"  
  
He did.  
  
"Fred, where are you going?" She stood on her tip-toes to kiss him hello. He turned his head; her lips landed square on his pale freckled cheek.  
  
"I have something to do," he said not looking at her.  
  
"It's History of Magic, I'm always late." He made to move past her but she blocked his way.  
  
"Why have you been avoiding me?"  
  
"I haven't."  
  
"Yes, you have. We were supossed to meet in Hogsmeade last weekend. Where were you?"  
  
"I just forgot, is all," Fred's eyes darted over her shoulder, eager to get to Chris.  
  
"The girls think you're seeing someone else."  
  
"What? No, I'm not."  
  
"Fred---"  
  
"Angelina, this isn't working."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Us, we aren't working."  
  
"Are you breaking up with me?"  
  
"We've grown apart---"  
  
"You ARE seeing someone else, aren't you?" Angelina cried.  
  
"WE don't want the same things out of life . . ."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"It's not you, it's me."  
  
"I can't believe you just said that! You're such an arse!"  
  
"I have to go," he pushed past her.  
  
"Fred! Where are you going, Fred! Are you going to her? Fred!" Angelina cried from behind him.  
  
"Fred stuffed his hands in his pockets and plowed onward. He hadn't wanted to do it like that, but George was right, he was just hurting Angelina by staying.  
  
Not to mention the fact that he didn't want to be with her. He wanted Chris.  
---  
"What do you want?" Chris snapped from the shadows when she caught sight of Fred.  
  
"Huh?" He turned to face her, startled away from his purpose by her callousness.  
  
"Fred, I can't, and don't, want to fool around right now. And besides, you have class!" She didn't move from the shadows that concealed her.  
  
"No! It's not that at all!" Fred said, running both of his hands through his hair and making it stand on end. //Is that all she thinks I want from her?// "No, it's just, at the start of breakfast Dumbledore announced that all Creatures classes would be cancelled for now until they can find another instructor. Why aren't you teaching anymore?"  
  
"Mat doesn't want to."  
  
"That doesn't mean you can't though."  
  
"Christmas is coming."  
  
"What?" Fred asked, startled at the sudden change in topic.  
  
"Christmas. You can smell it in the air."  
  
"What are you getting at?"  
  
"We'll be leaving, Fred, just before Christmas."  
  
"What!"  
  
"The boys and I. Hayde has sent for us."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"My father."  
  
"Why do you---where do you have to go?"  
  
"He summoned us, and I don't know."  
  
"How'd you get that scar?" Fred asked, eager for a change in topic. He realized in that moment that he never wanted her to leave and didn't ever want to have to think about that possibility. "The one on your face."  
  
Chris took a long time answering and when she did it was far from the answer he was expecting.  
  
"You heard Mat and I yesterday, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes," he answered reluctantly, but he knew he could never lie to her. "George and I were worried. Mat went kind of mad."  
  
"George and I were worried. Mat went kind of mad."  
  
"He's just like that."  
  
"But your scar, you've never told me how you got it."  
  
"There's a reason for that."  
  
"Have you EVER told anyone?"  
  
"No, only my brothers know."  
  
"Will you tell me?"  
  
"They were after my mum."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You-Know-Who's Death Eaters, they were after my mum."  
  
"To get to Hayde, he was close to Dumbledore."  
  
"Am I going to have to pull the whole story from you?" He couldn't see her eyes but he would have bet his last galleon that she was fixing him with her patented fiery glare. "I'll take that as a yes. So what next?"  
  
"She was teaching us about one of the larger dragons, the Opaleye. He was supposed to be sedated---to slow down his reaction time."  
  
"Who was with you, besides your mum?"  
  
"Mat. It was one of our first lessons. He would have been put with Eddie but he came down with pneumonia and had to be put with me. I was five-and-a-half, Mat, six-and-a-half. The dragon attacked. "She took a deep breath, Fred wished she'd come out of the shadows. "It went up on his hind legs and struck both myself and Mathew. What you see on my face runs down my chest to my left hip. But you knew that." She gave a harsh laugh. He could just see her hand move to touch her cheek before moving delicately to her eye. Something was wrong. Fred was about to inquire as to what was erroneous when she spoke again.  
  
"We were taken, then, by the Death Eaters, the three of us," she said, not making the best of sense. "I think I passed out then because when I awoke Mat was holding me in his arms and we were in a dungeon. I could hear water dripping nearby and screaming from far off. The dungeon reeked; there was a dead man in the corner."  
  
Fred swallowed thickly. He hadn't known she'd been through so much. "How'd you get out?"  
  
"Severus Snape showed up outside the bars."  
  
"Snape!?"  
  
"Yes, Snape. He entered our prison and crouched down before us and told us what he was to do. He had been permitted to close our wounds but not heal the scars. You-Know-Who instructed him to leave them as a warning to Hayde. Severus led us out of the dungeons and into what I think was the Main Hall. HE was there. There was a pale, blond, man on his right and a dark, brooding, man at his left."  
  
"Do you remember who the blond one was? Was it Lucius Malfoy?" Fred interrupted.  
  
"I don't know, Fred. I was only five."  
  
"Sorry, what'd they do?"  
  
"They brought my mum in."  
  
"How was she?"  
  
"Beaten, bruised . . . half clothed . . ."  
  
"What'd they do, Chris?" Fred asked gently.  
  
"They raped her."  
---  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	29. Chapter 29: Fifteen

Xenith  
  
---  
  
"The hardest challenge is the one you place upon yourself."  
~~~Unknown  
  
---  
  
Chapter Twenty-nine  
  
---  
  
"They what?" Fred demanded not sure if he'd heard her correctly.  
  
"Don't make me say it again, Fred. I can't, I just can't." She choked out. Fred was nearly choking himself---she was about to cry. Chris didn't cry!  
  
"They killed her, didn't they?" Fred asked instead. She didn't answer, but slid to the ground with a soft rustle of fabric, her head in her hands. Fred was at her side instantaneously. He touched her back lightly, not sure of how to handle such a situation. "Talk to me, Chris," he said gently, rubbing her back.   
  
"It was the first . . . and last time I saw my brother cry," she managed through her hands and hair. "He's my rock, Mat is." She sniffled quite loudly and made a half-hearted swipe at her nose. "Severus carried me all the way back to our house. I don't know how long it was---"  
  
"Shush," Fred said in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "You don't have to say anything more. It's all right." Chris curled in on herself, holding her legs close to her chest and burying her head in her knees. Fred pulled her close. "I'll take you back to your room then."  
  
Chris nodded, but she wasn't ready to move just yet. She shut her eyes and let Fred hold her for a very long time.  
  
Fred missed History of Magic.  
---  
Harry brought the sword down with enough force to sever his Professor's neck if he so desired. He did not. The blade stopped a hair's breath away from Professor Figg's skin.  
  
"Well done," she said, careful not to touch the blade. "You are done for the day."  
  
Harry moved away from her to the desk where he'd left the sheath. He slid the sword into its leather armour with a soft hiss. "What time is it, Professor?" Harry asked, wondering vaguely where the other half of his shirt had gotten to. It was a blue one and one of only two T-shirts that fit him properly.  
  
"Two thirty-eight. You should get to bed." She replied, extracting herself from the floor. "You've accomplished quite a lot today, Harry. You should be proud of yourself."  
  
"Yeah, sure." Harry shrugged, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.  
  
"Really, Harry, taking me down is quite an accomplishment."  
  
"You held back." He said quietly, turning away from her.  
  
"Excuse me? I most certainly did NOT."  
  
"Then how could I have beaten you? I've only had three _months_ of training and you've been doing this your whole life."  
  
"You're a fast learner, Harry. You're very strong and have so much untapped potential---"  
  
"Then why are we stopping? Teach me."  
  
"You need sleep. Go back to your dorm."  
  
"Professor---"  
  
"Now."  
  
Harry belted the sheath onto his waist, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and stormed from the room. He heard Professor Figg shout after him: "Get some sleep!"  
  
"Well, bugger that." Harry muttered, storming sown the corridor, Godric's sword thumping against his thigh.  
  
Before Harry knew it, he was outside the portrait hole and the Fat Lady. It took Harry a moment to realise she was speaking to him.  
  
"What?" Harry said, shaking his head. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."  
  
"Harry, dear, these late nights are really doing you in," she said kindly. "You should take a break."  
  
"Not you too---"  
  
"We only offer because---"  
  
"I'm a little tea-pot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout." Harry rushed out the absurd password dryly. The portrait opened rather reluctantly.  
  
Harry padded his way up the stairs to the dormitories, taking no notice of the door as it swung open before him and closed behind him of its own accord.  
  
"S'that you, Harry?" Ron asked groggily from deep within the draperies of his four-poster. Harry couldn't help but smile. He never failed to wait up for him.   
  
"Yeah, Ron, it's me," Harry replied. "Go back to sleep."  
  
Ron groaned something unintelligible and within moments was fast asleep.  
  
Harry stripped down to his boxers, stowing his sword in his trunk and tossing his damaged clothing to the ground. Harry stumbled his way across the dark dormitory and into the candlelit bathroom.  
  
He was tired, but he liked it better that way. The nightmares were less persistent.  
  
Harry climbed into the shower and let the hot waterfall, from the mouth of a rather terrifying looking gargoyle, cascade over his slender frame. //Well, not that slender any more.// Harry thought to himself, resting his head against the stone of the shower wall. He ran his fingers over his chest and closed his eyes. There weren't any scars there yet but Harry wasn't fool enough to believe that would last. He ran his fingers through his hair and held his head.  
  
He was fifteen and preparing to take on the biggest threat to the wizarding world had seen since Grindewald. He was fifteen and able to defeat his swordsmanship instructor after only three months of training. He was fifteen and a Mage.  
  
Harry may have been all of those things, but he still couldn't get a good haircut.  
  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	30. Chapter 30: ANOTHER Lesson in Language

Xenith  
  
"Life simply is. We must go with it or it destroys us."  
~~~Unknown  
  
Chapter Thirty  
"The Christmas holidays are fast approaching," Professor McGonagall addressed her fifth years the Monday before the Christmas holiday was to begin. "And with the holiday's come your O.W.L.s." The whole of the class let loose a collective groan.  
  
"Why are we starting so soon?" Seamus moaned, banging his head on his desk.  
  
"Quiet, Finnigan," McGonagall chided. "If you are just now beginning to study you are very much behind." There was a smattering of laughter from the class.  
  
"Hey, Harry," Ron hissed at his bespectacled friend.   
  
"Yeah?" Harry replied, leaning back in his chair to look at Ron around Hermione's back.  
  
"How was last night?"  
  
"Long, you don't have to wait up for me."  
  
"Yeah, well, what are brothers for?" Ron grinned.  
  
"Brothers?"  
  
"Yeah, brothers." Harry smiled softly at his ginger haired fr---brother. "So, are they going to make you take the O.W.L.s?"   
  
"Yes, but I'm glad they are, I don't want to be treated any differently."  
  
"Let's start language and signal training tonight, alright?"  
  
"Bien," (Okay) Harry said in French, the corners of his mouth quirking.  
  
"Vous parlez français?" (You speak French?) Ron replied in the same, eyes widening.  
  
"What? I can only remember, maybe, five words from a course we were given in primary school."  
  
"C'est un début, Harry, c'est un début," (It's a start, Harry, it's a start.)   
  
Harry tipped his head a bit and looked at Ron.  
  
"We've a _lot_ of work to do."  
---  
"N.E.W.T.s," Professor McGonagall addressed her seventh years. "Are THE most important test that you will take in your Hogwarts career. "You are all of age and should have _some_ idea as to what you would like to do with the rest of your lives. There is a multitude of avenues available for young, intelligent, able bodied wizards and witches such as yourself. Some of you may choose to sign on with Professional Quidditch teams, as apprentices, join the Ministry, or apply to a University somewhere. Much of this depends upon how well you perform on your exams.  
  
"Now, here are---"  
  
"What if we don't plan on doing any of that?" George interrupted.  
  
"Yeah, what if our plans involve, say, starting our own business? Why would we have to take N.E.W.T.s?" Fred elaborated.  
  
"And you two plan on starting your own business?" McGonagall said, folding her arms over her chest. Frankly, she wasn't very surprised.   
  
"I daresay you mean started already. Our _little_ business is well on its way."  
  
"That's quite an accomplishment given that you couldn't even bother yourself to study for last weeks test."  
  
"We don't like to bother ourselves with piddly little things like tests." George expanded.  
  
"We're entrepreneurs." Fred declared.  
  
"Well, your business won't be very successful if you can't do the paperwork to back it up."  
  
"We've got people for that."  
  
"More like person, Fred."  
  
"We've got a person for that." Fred corrected, never breaking stride.  
  
"And how---" McGonagall was cut off as the bell signaling the end of class rang.  
"Good-bye Professor!" George called over his shoulder as he dragged Fred out of the door with him. "See you next year!"  
"Ahhh," Fred said with a sigh, throwing one arm around his brother's shoulder and the other around Lee Jordan's. "Transfiguration's over till January and she forgot to assign us any homework for the holiday. What a beautiful world."  
---  
"Okay," Hermione said, touching the tip of her wand to the centre of Harry's forehead. "This is an absorption spell; it'll be like you're a linguist. You'll be able to analyze, internalize, and reformat the language in only a few minuets of learning it. It'll hurt a bit, are you ready?"   
  
"Yes." Harry said softly, closing his eyes.  
  
"Admorous." Hermione said. Harry's brain seized under the pressure of the charm.  
  
"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head clear and looked back across the coffee table at them.  
  
"Yeah, let's start." He replied.  
  
"Okay, Hermione and are just going to start talking. Pay attention. You're a smart kid, catch on."  
  
"Ex---excuse me?" Harry stammered.  
  
"Trop tard, nous avons déjà commencé," (Too late, we've already begun,) Ron smirked.  
  
"Salut, Ron, comment sont vous cette soirée?" (Hello, Ron, how are you this evening?) Hermione started professionally.  
  
"Parfaitement excellent, beau, comment allez-vous?" (Perfectly fine, beautiful, how are you?). Ron said grinning like a fool.  
  
"Stop it Ron." Hermione blushed.  
  
"Français, beau, français." (French, beautiful, French.)  
  
"Pardon, mon beau," (Pardon, my lovely) It was Ron's turn to blush.  
  
"J'ai alimenté mon chat hier." "I fed my cat yesterday."  
  
"Oh, vous a faits, comment agréable." (Oh, did you, how nice.)  
"J'ai aussi déjeuné aujourd'hui. Je pourrais à peine m'aider de sauter vous." (I also had lunch today. I could hardly help myself from jumping you.)  
  
"Hermione!" Ron's ears were flaming.   
  
"How allons-nous we apprendre n'importe teach des autres languages? Je Know seulement le français et l'anglais." (How are we going to teach him any of the other languages? I only know French and English.) Hermione said.  
  
"Je sais, l'allemand, Mermish, russe et Elvish, mais tout les autres, nous allons avoir besoin de quelqu'un d'autre pour l'aider avec ceux-là. Je ne sais(connais) pas qui quoique." (I know, French, German, Russian, Mermish, and Elvish, but all the others, we're going to need someone else to help him with those. I don't know who though.)  
  
"Votre français est _quite_ bon, Ron. Vous say que vous avez juste appris cet été ?" (Your French is _quite_ good, Ron. You say you just learned this summer?)  
  
"Yeah, c'est pourquoi je ne pouvais pas over." (Yeah, that is why I couldn't have you over.)  
  
"I wish I could have, I was so bored." Hermione said, in French, but Harry was astounded to find himself understanding completely. He decided to try his hand at the language.  
  
"Ainsi, quels étaient les devoirs Charms alors?" (So, what was the Charms homework then?)  
  
"Harry! Bon travail!" (Harry! Good job.)  
  
"Jetzt Deutsche. Unsere Charme-Hausaufgaben waren read, Kapitel zwölf bei cooking des Charmes für ein Quiz am Monday zu lesen." (Now German. Our Charms homework today was to read chapter twelve on cooking charms for a quiz on Wednesday.) "Ich weiß know dann alle dennoch. Sie können nicht in Weasley Haushalt leben ohne zu cook, wie man richtig kocht. Mama ist, uns, ein Zauberer sagen lassen, wenn es zur Küche kommt. Ich höre dass Hermione's not besonders gut daran though." (I already know then all though. You can't live in the Weasley household without knowing how to cook properly. mum is, let us say, a magician when it comes to the kitchen. I hear that Hermione's not very good at it though.)  
  
"Wirklich? Ich hätte gedacht, dass sie ein guter Koch sein würde. Sie ist an etwas anderem gut." (Really? I would have thought that she would be a good cook. She is good at everything else.) Harry replied happily, he was catching on quickly.  
  
"Honestly, she's hopeless. I won't know what to with her in our kitchen. She's going to be making messes all the time. And guess who is going to have to clean them up? Me! That is who!" Ron articulated in rough Russian, he didn't like the language and took to it far less than the others.  
  
"Our kitchen? You are already planning on having a future with Hermione?" Harry said perfectly on the first try, his Russian next to beautiful compared to Ron's. He added a wicked smirk to seal the deal. Ron blushed yet again.  
  
"Elfish, then?" Ron mumbled.  
  
"Let's."  
  
"Roccalas, linda lótë nórelyo," (Éowyn, beautiful flower of your land), "Anvanya yeldë" (Roccoliéva, the fairest daughter of [the] People of Horses), "Le calina ve Naira ilwessë;" (you [are] light like [the] Sun on sky); "Le rín' anda laurëa loxenen," (you [are] crowned by long golden hair), "caltala ve i calimë alcar," (shining like the bright rays of light), "Roccalas aranel turmawendë." (Éowyn princess shieldmaiden.)  
  
"I've heard that before," Harry said in the same, his tongue folding beautifully around the foreign syllables.  
  
"It's a common elfish song, it's not surprising." Ron said softly, the language rolling off his tongue. "Mermish, and then we'll be done. I don't know any to the others they want you to learn."  
  
"All right."  
  
All of a sudden Ron was making the same sort of squeaking noises Harry had heard outside of the lake the previous year. Hermione let out a snorting bout of laughter as she hid her face in her hands. Ron looked, and sounded, positively ridiculous. But, surprisingly enough, Harry knew exactly what it was he was saying. Harry responded in the like with, "Quiet, Ron." Ron closed his mouth with a sheepish smile.  
  
"It's late, we should go to bed." Hermione said, straightening her robes unnecessarily.   
  
"Right, we should." Ron said, looking pointedly at Harry.  
  
Harry got the picture. Ron and Hermione wanted a bit of 'alone' time. "I'll just be going them. Shall I wait up, Ron?" He asked innocently.  
  
"Go away." Ron threw a cushion at Harry who caught it effortlessly.  
  
As Harry made his way up to the boys dorms he rolled the idea of what Ron and Hermione were able to do around in his head. They could date, each other nonetheless. They could plan for their future, again, with each other. They could HAVE a future. Harry knew why he didn't date, knew why he didn't plan. His being involved with someone romantically was asking for Voldemort to come and take them away from him.   
  
//God,// he thought. //My life sucks.//  
---  
"Hullo everyone!" Fred and George exploded into the Gryffindor common room two nights before the Christmas holiday. "We're sooo well off of late that we have decided to share the wealth!" George announced, pouncing onto the nearest coffee table with Fred, holding a large cardboard box above his head.  
  
"We've got you all presents!"  
  
More than one Gryffindor dove for cover as Fred opened the box. Out of the box came over a hundred leafy green plants tied with red ribbons. The plants, now identifiable as sprigs of mistletoe, danced over the heads of the Gryffindors and over to the walls of the common room. One would have thought the thick stone would have stopped them from going any further, but no. The sprigs moved straight through the walls and into the rest of the school.  
  
This isn't what most of the students were focused on however. The mistletoe had found more than one girl and boy sitting/standing/studying beside each other and claimed them for their own. Shimmering gold boxes were forming around each couple, trapping them to their fate.  
  
Ron banged his fist on one such box trapping him and Hermione. As Ron's fist came into contact with the shimmering shield the cage shrunk a foot, forcing a very stunned Ronald Weasley a foot closer to a blushing Hermione Granger. She said something no-one but Ron could hear. Ron's ears went pink as he said something back to her. Ron bowed his head to hers and brushed his lips gently against hers.  
  
The shield vanished immediately and the mistletoe moved on in search of its next pair of victims. The two shrank back onto the sofa amid more then one hoot of laughter from the common room.   
  
Several of the other trapped couples were far less reluctant to display their affection beneath the enchanted mistletoe. Seamus and Lavender were still going at it long after their mistletoe had lost interest. Dean had started throwing crumpled balls of parchmen at the couple and making gagging noises.  
  
"Smashing!" Fred said loudly over the laughter. "Happy Christmas all! We hope your holidays are _prosperous_." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the Gryffindors.  
  
Dean hurled a ball of parchment at his head.  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	31. Chapter 31: Gymnastics

Xenith  
Chapter Thirty-one  
  
---  
  
A/N1: Errr . . . first off I would like to apologise for the terrible translations given in the previous chapter. I used various translator websites. I only speak Spanish, and barely at that.  
  
A/N2: Secondly, I don't believe I have explained myself enough on why Harry needs to learn all of this. Harry is being covertly trained as a War Mage without the Ministry's notification. Part of the training needed to follow that path is an extensive knowledge of different languages, extreme athletic ability, and knowledge and whatnot. I hope this chapter isn't so doofy that it completely throws you off my little (now rather large) tale here. And I hope that this chapter helps explain a bit of the above for you!!!  
---  
"I have to learn gymnastics?" Harry stammered out, more stunned than he had been in quite a long time (which really was saying something).   
  
"You will also take a short dance course, both to be followed up by martial arts training. All to hone your balance, agility, and muscle control." Professor Figg said, all business as she finished grading her first years essays on dark plants.  
  
"Are you going to teach me then?"  
  
"I am far too old to instruct a young, able bodied boy such as yourself properly. I would just hinder your progress and that's the last thing you need."  
  
"Who then, Professor?"  
  
"Harry, you must realise that the training you are undergoing now is Arch Angel training. Training much older wizards have failed, and even, did at."  
  
"Arch Angel?"  
  
"Yes, it's military training at one of the highest levels; above, even, Auror training. By the conclusion of this year we expect you to have completed Level One and the majority of Level Two requirements for Arch Angel registration."  
  
"How many levels are there?" Harry asked, sliding into the desk nearest him and watching his Professor.  
  
"Nine, and for most people all nine levels take the better part of eighteen years to complete."  
  
"What comes after that?"  
  
"Well, there's always the option of becoming a Seven Minute Man---but nearly anyone can apply for that job with only a year of some type of military and flight training under their belt."  
  
"And what does a Seven Minute Man do?"  
  
"They're basically the bait to capture criminals, lure dark beasts, or practice dummies for experimental curses. They're called 'Seven Minute Men' because they live an average of seven minutes out in the field."  
  
"Have you ever done any of that?"  
  
"I was a level Five Arch Angel for sometime, but then Albus called upon my services, first during the war against Voldemort and then to watch over you for fourteen years. I had to stop training and drop out of the program."  
  
"Sorry 'bout that," Harry said, turning away from her.  
  
"I was never on the SMM force however."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I guess I was too selfish. I'd risk my life to an extent, but I suppose I could never bring myself to cross that line. You usually can tell who the SMM are, Harry."  
  
"Really, how?"  
  
"SMM receive a tattoo beneath their left eye of---"  
  
"Three horizontal black lines? Tapering off towards the ear?"  
  
"Yes, how'd you know?"  
  
"Some of the Jameson boys had that tattoo; I didn't know what it meant at the time."  
  
"It's good you know. Now back to the matter at hand. We have found a more than suitable instructor in your house so your late night excursions to the opposite end of the castle will no longer be required."  
  
"Who's to teach me?"  
  
"You are to wear comfortable clothing that you can move in and meet her in the common room at twelve o'clock every night until she believes you capable enough to practice on your own."  
  
"Who am I to meet, Professor?"  
  
"She has asked me not to reveal her name to you at the moment, Harry. Apparently, she is quite nervous to be working with you."  
  
"Does she know? About me being a Mage, I mean?"  
  
"No, not _exactly_, but Albus believes that she is quite intelligent and may have figured it out already. She is also the only one Albus believes fully able to teach you properly.   
---  
"Hey, Harry, my man," Fred said, bouncing onto the sofa on his left.  
  
"How've you been?" George said, bouncing on his right.  
  
"Fine," Harry replied, more than nervous at being trapped between the two pranksters but too polite to move away from them. "How are you two?"  
  
"Great!"  
  
"Just peachy!"  
  
"But, down to business," Fred declared, his voice taking on a serious note uncommon among the twins. "Given your more than considerable contribution to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in its earliest stages, we have made you our silent partner."  
  
"Silent partner?" Harry said, relieved that they weren't here for product testing. "You didn't---"  
  
"Oh yes we did," George interrupted. "And we've come to hold up our half of the deal. So, here," George handed him a small gold key and a blue and silver gilt box tied in elaborate silver ribbon and bearing the name 'Enchantawear' in curly glowing script.  
  
"What are these?"  
  
"The key is to the WWW vault in Gringotts," Fred explained.  
  
"And those are Ronniekinns' dress robes," George said, tapping the box. "We'd appreciate it if you'd give them to him come Christmas."   
  
"That's fine, but I can't take this key," he tried, futilely, to push the key back into Fred's hand.  
  
"No, no, no, we insist. We want you to be a full partner." Fred and George got up and started towards the boys stairs. Fred turned back to him, asking: "Oi, Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How many times has Ron been caught beneath our mistletoe?"  
  
"Nine, all with Hermione," Harry grinned at the two.  
  
"Great! We've enchanted one of the sprigs to follow him 'round. Night, Harry!" Fred bounded up the stairwell.  
  
"See you, Har!" George followed, equally enthused.  
  
"Bye." Harry gave a half wave at the already empty stairs as he set the box on the coffee table before him, put the key in his pocket, and waited.  
  
He was still a good half-an-hour early for his first gymnastics session so he occupied himself with watching the stray Gryffindors finish up their games and homework before making their way up to their dormitories with wide yawns and slow steps all more than ready for the Christmas holiday.  
"Harry?" He heard a familiar voice say from behind him. "Are you awake?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Harry replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to remember when he fell asleep. "I'm up---Ginny?"  
  
"Hi, Harry," she said softly. "Are you ready to begin?" she ran her hands over her hips and thighs in effort to rid herself of her sweaty palms.  
  
"You're---you're my instructor?" He managed to stammer out, his eyes following her hands. She was wearing only a T-shirt she seemed to have grown out of years ago and grey athletic shorts that showed off her lean freckled legs.  
  
"Yeah, is that all right?" Harry watched as she ran her tongue over her lips nervously. Harry was more than mesmerised. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, //She's Ron's sister. Get a grip.//  
  
"It's fine, Ginny. Are you ready?"  
  
"We just need to clear the area a bit. We need room to work." She answered in the same quiet tone.  
  
Harry banished the sofas, armchairs, and study tables to the perimeter of the common room.  
  
"We don't have any mats or anything, so this might be a little painful . . ." Ginny trailed off.  
  
"It's alright. We'll just have to be careful. And I'm no stranger to physical injury." Harry replied.  
  
"Well, we need to stretch first. I'll do it with you today and tomorrow, but then you should warm-up on your own so we don't waste any practice time."  
  
"Right." Harry nodded and copied Ginny's movements as they sat together on the floor of the Gryffindor common room.  
  
Harry was limber enough for a Seeker but nothing compared to Ginny.  
  
"Okay, do you know how to do a somersault?" Ginny asked, rubbing her hands together as she came to her feet.  
  
"Yes," Harry answered. "I think so, at least."  
  
Ginny laughed. Her thick throaty laugh that was gaining the ability to make Harry go weak in the knees. "Go ahead and try it then."  
  
Harry felt worse than an idiot performing his somersault over and over again under Ginny's watchful eyes.  
  
"Good, Harry. Good." Ginny said, pulling him to hid feet. "Now, can you do a cartwheel?"   
  
"Possibly." Harry drew out the word hesitantly.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll help you." She smiled shyly and Harry could have sworn she blushed. "Go ahead by yourself first and then we'll work on perfecting it before we even try anything else."  
  
"Okay." Harry said, taking a deep breath as he tried to remember what a cartwheel looked like. Harry gave the sorriest excuse for a cartwheel Ginny had ever seen and landed flat on his rump. She covered her mouth as a breath of laughter escaped her lips. "Well, you go then. I won't be able to do any of this if you don't teach me, _Professor_." Harry said, feigning anger as he stood up, running his hands over his backside as he made his way backside as he made his way back to Ginny.  
  
"Well," she said, gathering herself. "You have to make sure you keep your legs straight, toes pointed, and elbows locked. Like so." Ginny's cartwheel was picture perfect.  
  
"Show off," Harry muttered, jokingly, under his breath.  
  
"Oh, come on," Ginny said, coming back to him. "I'll help you. Here, put your arms up over your head . . ." She was running her hands over his arms, her fingers resting over his biceps without even realising it. Harry shivered. Ginny leapt away from him, blushing like mad. "Sorry." She muttered.   
  
"It's all ri---" Harry grunted, crumpling to the ground, one hand clamped over his scar, the other clutching his stomach.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny shrieked, falling to her knees. "Harry, what's wrong!?"  
  
Harry moaned, rolling onto his back, and passed out.  
  
---  
  
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	32. Chapter 32: To the Hospital Wing they go...

Xenith  
Chapter Thirty-two  
  
A/N: this is a special note to two of my reviewers, one who I treasure deeply the other whom I have absolutely no respect for. First the good: to AlexaDonaghy, I was in no way offended by your review! I was worried that you my have thought less of me due to my terrible French! I'm so happy you love it so much! It's people like you who I'm writing this for!!! And secondly, to kateydidnt, if you're even reading this, if you are going to insult me at least spell patronus correctly. It's not patroni. That's just pathetic. Thanks to all my WONDERFUL reviewers! Keep'em coming!!!!!!!!!!  
  
---  
"Ron!" Ginny exploded into her brother's dormitory. "Ron! Wake up!"  
  
"Ginny?" Ron poked his head out of the hangings of his four-poster, coming fully out upon seeing her face. "What's wrong? What happened?"  
  
"Harry! He passed out just now! I don't know what happened. I was just positioning him to do a cartwheel and he groaned and fell!" She let out in a rush.  
  
Ron dashed down the stairs to Harry, falling at his side, pressing his fingers to Harry's neck. His pulse was faint for a moment before Harry let loose a heart wrenching scream and started thrashing about.  
  
"Gin, go get Hermione," Ron said, feigning calm for his frantic sister. He didn't hear Ginny pound up the girls' stairwell or shout for Hermione to come.  
  
Harry had passed out. Later, Ron would wish that he had heard his sister's shouts, however, because then he may have gathered his senses enough to get Harry out of the common room before the whole of Gryffindor house poured down the stairs around him and Harry.  
  
Harry's breathing went ragged as the Gryffindor's surrounded them. His arms thrashed out and he nearly punched Ron.  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione panted from behind him. Harry's thrashing limbs snapped against his body. Ron spared the smallest of glances of thanks at Hermione.  
  
"Where'd all these---?" Ron cut off as he caught sight of the students pressing in around them. "Never-mind. Clear out!" Ron commanded, flicking his wand at Harry with a muttered, "Mobilicourps." The largest seventh year cowered away from him as he stormed from the tower, Hermione and Ginny in his wake.  
  
"Ginny, tell me _exactly_ what happened before he passed out." Ron said, or ordered rather.   
  
"I was helping him with---" Ginny was cut off as Harry wrenched himself free of Hermione's body bind, flailed in mid-air a moment before pulling away from Ron's spell and landing on the floor of the corridor with a resounding thump. He lay still a moment and then screamed, "NOOO! Ron!" at the top of his lungs, folding in on himself and spasming as though he'd been plugged into an electrical outlet, muttering, "No . . . Ron . . . Hermione . . . Ginny . . . NO!"  
  
"Hermione, go get Fred and George, anyone. We're going to have to carry him." Ron didn't see Hermione nod and tore back to the Gryffindor common room, he was already instructing Ginny. "Gin, go get Dumbledore, send him to the Hospital Wing, wait there with him. And no matter what Pomfrey says, you stay there. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, Ron." Ginny answered, darting down the corridor and ducking through a passageway in the stone.  
  
"It's alright, Harry," Ron murmured to his friend, trying to hide the fear from his voice. "You'll be alright."  
  
"---he broke away from my body bind and Ron's levitation," he heard Hermione explain as three sets of feet pounded toward them. "We can't get him still, he needs to get to the Hospital Wing."  
  
"Right," Fred, or George, said seriously.  
  
The trio came into view, Fred and George immediately taking charge of the situation.  
  
"Take his feet, Ron," George instructed. Ron nodded and moved to Harry's feet. "Fred?"  
  
"Right," Fred nodded, understanding what George wanted of him without any further explanation. The twins grabbed each others forearms and slid them beneath Harry's back. "One . . . two . . . three!"  
---  
  
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	33. Chapter 33: More Nightmares

Xenith  
---  
"Envy the country that has heroes, pity the country that needs'em."  
~~~Reign of Fire  
---  
Chapter Thirty-three  
---  
  
"It's all ri---" Harry grunted, his forehead exploding in blinding, white-hot pain. He held his stomach in agony, trying to push away whoever was kicking him.  
  
"Harry!" He heard someone call from far off, faint and forgettable. "Harry, what's wrong!?" Harry could only moan in reply, rolling onto his back as a gray fog overtook him.  
  
"My Lord, all is ready," a soft, slimy voice invaded Harry's mind. "Now it is up to you to act." The voice quickly gained form, shifting into a small black cloaked, white masked Death Eater.  
  
"Good, good," the Dark Lord's voice, or, Harry assumed it was his voice, he sounded different---younger---replied from the shadows, just beyond Harry's range of vision. "Now, bring me the Muggle, let us enjoy ourselves, shall we?" Voldemort cracked maliciously.  
  
"Yes, my Lord." The slimy voiced man scurried through the nearest doorway, returning moments later with a Muggle boy about the same age as, and looking a lot like, Harry.  
  
Harry felt himself being hurled at Voldemort's feet. But it couldn't be him. Could it? The Death Eater kicked the Muggle---Harry in the stomach. Harry heard himself grunt.  
  
"You've done well on this one, Parkinson," Voldemort said. "He looks very much like the Potter boy."  
  
"Pottered for your pleasure," Parkinson said before shrinking into the shadows.  
  
"Just the way I like them . . . CRUCIO!"  
  
Harry screamed as hooks grabbed hold of every inch of his skin and tore it violently off his bones. In the single solitary sane portion of his brain he rationalised that his skin wasn't being jerked away from his body and the white-hot pain setting fire to his nerves was all in his mind. The solitary cogent part of his brain soon started convincing the rest of his brain that the pain wasn't real, it was a spell, a trick!  
  
"Nooo!" Harry screamed in a voice that wasn't his as he ripped his entire being away from the idea of pain. His body stopped convulsing and the Muggle lay still, face pressed into the ground.  
  
"Take him away!" Voldemort commanded, enraged.  
  
"What shou---" Parkinson began.  
  
"I don't care! Get him out of my sight!" Voldemort bellowed.  
  
White fog obscured his senses . . . big, blurred shapes were moving around him as he fell . . . then came the voices, a man's voice, shouting, panicking . . . familiar---  
  
_"Hermione, take Conner and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off---" Ron, older and in his pyjams, stumbled from the room.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Go!" Ron bellowed from the other room.  
  
"Ron, no, I can't!" The woman turned from the bassinette, a bundle of wild ginger hair wrapped in her arms. Hermione. There was a thump as something heavy fell to the ground in the adjacent room. "Ron!"  
  
A dark figure of a man moved into the child's room, his face obscured by clouds of white fog.  
  
"Not Conner! Not Conner! Please---I'll do anything---" Hermione begged, clutching the boy to her breast.   
  
"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" The voice, the . . . younger voice from earlier, snapped at the older Hermione. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" The room exploded in green light as the killing curse took Hermione. The baby, Conner, was falling through the air.  
  
"No, Ron, Hermione, No!" Harry's pleas fell on deaf ears.  
  
The baby was falling, someone needed to catch it, why couldn't he catch it!?   
  
And then Ginny was there. Older, all girlish foolishness gone from her as she caught the baby, touched the mobile over the bassinette and disappeared. Mobile and all.  
  
"I need you . . . I can't . . ." Harry heard himself cry as the cloaked man, Voldemort, spun, searching for his prey. ". . . I can't . . . Ginny . . ." The fog round Voldemort's face dissipated before taking Harry over, sending him tumbling backwards. "NO!"  
  
Harry landed, voices assaulting his eardrums, "Hermione, take Conner . . ." It was starting over again. Over and over and over again.  
  
---  
"RIDDLE!" Harry screamed, finally bringing an end to the nightmare.  
  
---  
  
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	34. Chapter 34: Abandonment

Xenith  
  
---  
  
A/N: Okay, this is a monster chapter I've been working on for ages, I think I might divide it into two chapters, but, we'll see! Oh, yeah, and there's a bit of snogging at the end. A bit descriptive, but nothing more that kisses! Enjoy! R&R!!!  
---  
"I'm cuddling close   
To blankets and sheets.  
I am alone  
In my defeat  
I wish I knew you were safely at home."  
~~~Dashboard Confessional  
  
---  
  
Chapter Thirty-four  
  
---  
"Riddle!" Harry screamed, bolting up-right in the hospital bed, drenched in sweat. "Ron!"  
  
"Harry!" Ron leapt from his seat, putting Harry's glasses in his hand. Harry continued to thrash about, desperately ripping at the sweat soaked linen he'd gotten himself tangled in over the past few days. "Harry, it's all right. You're fine. I'm fine!"  
  
"Ron?" Harry stopped thrashing, grabbing hold of Ron's arms and staring at him as if he'd never seen him before. "Ron, thank god." Harry wrapped his arms round him momentarily before returning his attention to the sheets trapping him to the bed.  
  
"Harry, I'll get them." Ron said, pulling the once crisp white linen away from his friend. Harry leapt to his feet the instant he was free.  
  
"Dumbledore---I've got to speak to Dumbledore," Harry insisted. "And Hermione? Where's Hermione? And Ginny's got Conner, right? They're safe, right? Where's Dumbledore?!" Harry let out in a great rush.  
  
"Wait, Harry, calm down," Ron instructed. "Dumbledore should be here any minute now. He just went to grab a bite and speak with the remaining students. Hermione and Ginny---"  
  
"`Remaining'! What do you mean `remaining'?" Harry interrupted.  
  
"School let out for the holiday. You've been out for days."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But Herm went down to the kitchens to us some breakfast. Said she needed to get out of here for a few moments."  
  
"Wh---" Harry trailed off as he took in his surroundings. Colin and Ginny were curled up on the bed to Harry's right, fully clothed and fast asleep.  
  
"It's usually packed with Gryffindors, but today's a Hogsmeade day so they're down grabbing breakfast before they head out." Ron explained as Harry's jaw dropped. "Hey, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You asked me if Ginny had Conner, who's Conner?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"When I freed you from the sheet, who's Conner?"  
  
"Oh, your son," Harry said, waving it off and pacing the room.  
  
"My what?!" Ron demanded.  
  
"Your son, yours and Hermione's."  
  
"Harry! You're up!" Hermione shrieked, waking the snoozing Gryffindors as she threw herself at the bespectacled boy.  
  
"I'm fine, Herm," Harry replied, pushing her off. "Now, where's the Head---"  
  
"I'm right here, Mr Potter," Dumbledore replied, appearing in the doorway behind Hermione. "Perhaps we should step outside," he said, eyeing the eager ears of the newly awoken students. "I believe you have something to tell me?"  
  
"Professor, it's Riddle---HE'S Riddle---" Harry broke in, giving no heed to Dumbledore's request. "Voldemort, he did something. He looks like he did before he---he did whatever it is he did to look like he used to---"  
  
"Harry, the corridor," Dumbledore commanded, leaving room for argument. "Now."  
  
Harry nodded. "Come on, Ron." He looked to Ron. The youngest Weasley boy stayed immobile, searching Dumbledore's eyes before he moved. "Ron." Harry said sharply. Ron followed.  
  
"I saw him, Professor." Harry said when the occupants of the Hospital Wing were cut off from them.  
  
"In your dream, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yes, over and over again, but also---also in Hogsmeade, a while ago."  
  
"What? How do you know?"  
  
"I recognised him, but only vaguely. The only time I ever saw Tom Riddle was in second year in the Chamber of Secrets, but my scar started to burn---"  
  
"Why didn't you inform me of this?"  
  
"Because it always hurts! Always. Since the end of last year, it hasn't stopped! That's why I didn't tell you, it didn't seem out of the ordinary---just a little more persistent."  
  
"He was that man," Ron spoke up in a low husky tone. "That man who bumped into me in the Three Broomsticks, wasn't he?"   
  
"Yes." Harry replied, not turning to his friend.  
  
"Why didn't he just try to get you then?"  
  
"Who knows, but that's not what's important now. He's done something, sir," he addressed Dumbledore. "He's more powerful than ever before and he's planning something big."  
---  
"Where are you going?" Fred said, coming up to Chris from the portrait hole.   
  
"Oh!" She started. "Fred, hi. Why aren't you at Hogsmeade with the rest?"  
  
"You've been there once you've been there a hundred times. Besides, George and Lee and I have some work we need to do before the new year." He took up the empty space beside her.  
  
"Oh," her face fell, she was hiding something. Fred took a step closer to her, twining his large fingers with hers and ignoring the sharp look the dragon on her shoulder gave him.   
  
"What's wrong, Chris?" He nudged her with his shoulder.   
  
"Fred---"  
  
"Come on, you can tell me."  
  
"You know that letter, the one from my father?" She said quietly.  
  
"Where he summoned you?" Fred said, knowing what was coming but unwilling to accept it.  
  
"We're leaving tomorrow morning. Early."  
  
"Were you going to tell me?"  
  
"I didn't want to."  
  
"I'm glad you did."  
  
"I have to go pack . . ." Chris said, turning to the portrait hiding her quarters.  
"Can---can I see you? Before you leave?" Fred asked, not letting go of her hand.  
  
"Fred---"  
  
"Just say yes. That's all I want."  
  
"Yes." She breathed, pulling away from him and disappearing into her room.  
---  
"Dumbledore," Ron exclaimed softly, the worst dawning on him. "Did you send them off to Hogsmeade yet?"  
  
Anger flew fleetingly through Dumbledore's eyes before locking into a glare of resolution. "Get in the Hospital Wing. Do not leave for anything. I will inform you upon my return." Dumbledore pushed them into the Hospital Wing, sealing the door behind them.   
  
Harry slid to the floor against the doorway, his arms propped up on his knees and resting his forehead on his arms.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ginny said quietly from the bed.  
  
"You-Know-Who is in Hogsmeade." Ron replied, sinking into the bed nearest him.  
  
"What?" Colin snapped to attention.  
  
"Harry had a dream and we saw him in Hogsmeade." Ron answered.  
  
"M---my brother's in Hogsmeade." Colin stammered out.  
  
"He'll be okay," Ginny comforted, scooting next to Colin and grabbing his hand. "Dumbledore's on it, right?" She looked to Ron.  
  
"Yes, he's locked us in." Hermione moved to Ron's side and wrapped her arms round his waist.  
---  
"So, I was thinking," George said, sucking on the end of his quill as he strode across the next to empty common room as Fred entered. "That if we expand our reach to Diagon Alley this year than we can get our foot in the door early and possibly have our own shop there by the time school starts next September."  
  
"Granted," Lee piped in from the floor where he had the schematics of the entire Weasley's Wizard Wheezes franchise spread out before him. "It'd be better if we could get a shop in Hogsmeade by next year, but we can't have everything, I suppose."   
  
"Although, we do already have a little corner in Zonko's . . ." George said, scribbling on a pad of parchment.  
  
"Man," Lee said wistfully, falling onto his back, his hands beneath his head. "If we could get a store in Hogsmeade by next Christmas . . ."  
  
"I know, but that's a bit much to ask for. There's no rental space open in Hogsmeade. But a contact on mine in Diagon Alley says some business is going under and there's a good chance he can hold their old warehouse for us until we can get enough money together . . . are you even listening, Fred?" Fred had sunk into an overstuffed armchair by the fire, a glazed look invading his face. "Fred? What's wrong?"   
  
"She's leaving, George," he answered somberly. He'd been trying to keep up his morale the entire way back to the common room and he was going to see her tonight, but all that couldn't change the fact that he didn't want her to go. He needed her here. At Hogwarts.  
  
"Who's leaving?"  
  
"Who do you think?"  
  
"Chris?"  
  
"Right in one."  
  
"When's she off?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning."  
  
"And how do you---"  
  
"I don't want her to go, George."  
---  
Harry hadn't moved from his spot on the floor in front of the door.  
  
"It's been hours," Hermione said quietly to Ron. "Do you think anything's happened?"  
  
"I don't know what to think, Herm," Ron replied, leaning against the wall at the head of his bed, Hermione curling in against his side, taking no notice of the other occupants of the Hospital Wing. "I think we would have heard if anything had happened. Don't you?"  
  
"I think everything's all right." Hermione said resolutely.  
  
"I think we should be out there helping." Ron replied. "Can't you unlock the door, Harry?"  
  
"I've been trying. Dumbledore's done more than just a locking charm." Harry answered, his face still buried in his knees. "I can't do it."  
  
"It's okay, Harry." Hermione said. "It's probably better if we stay here anyway."   
  
"That's easy for you to say. You haven't got anyone in Hogsmeade." Harry peaked out of his arms to where Colin and Ginny were talking in hushed tones, their foreheads pressed together. "Dennis is out there."  
  
"You're not responsible for him, Harry."  
  
"Yes, I am. I promised Colin I'd keep an eye on his brother---"  
  
"Attention students!" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed out over the school, ripping the five Gryffindors attention to the air above them. "Stay where you are. A professor will be round shortly to gather you."   
---  
"---shortly to gather you."  
  
"Bugger that," Fred muttered darkly, determined to tell Chris _exactly_ how he felt about her leaving. He'd managed to work himself up so much in the past hours that no disembodied voice of his Deputy Headmistress was going to be able keep him away from Chris' quarters.  
  
"Featherbrain." Fred growled darkly at the portrait hiding her rooms. "Chris, you're not going." Fred said calmly upon entering, slamming the frame behind him brutally.  
  
"Fred, I have to. You know I have to," she didn't turn from her packing.   
  
"I don't care. You're not going," his voice rising ever so slightly.   
  
"You're being ridiculous. Hayde's orders, you know that." She moved over to the small beat-up dresser and pulled open the last drawer, her hands shaking.   
  
"I'm not going to let you."  
  
"What do you mean 'you're not going to let me'?" She finally turned to him. He could see she'd been crying.  
  
"I'm not letting you." He repeated, moving to block the portrait exit.  
  
"Fred, you're being a prat. I have to go."  
  
"You don't though! Get Eddie or Brian or even MAT to do it! You don't need to go." He ended quietly. He had spent the past few hours thinking about ways to keep her at Hogwarts with him. And he refused to give up now.  
  
"Mat's coming with me, Brian's staying to continue teaching the class and keeping a watch on the dragon's staying at Hogwarts, and Eddie's being sent somewhere else."   
  
"Don't leave," Fred whispered, carefully examining his warn trainers.   
  
"I have to," she turned back to her rucksack.   
  
"Don't leave Hogwarts . . . don't leave me."   
  
"Don't do this, Fred. Just leave." She was on the verge of crying. "Just walk away."   
  
Fred did start to walk, but not away. He came up close behind her, very close, and wrapped his thick arms round her lithe form, binding her to himself and refusing to let her go. "No." He could feel a horrible tingle in the corners of his eyes.   
  
"I have to go." She prayed silently that it wasn't true, that Fred would never let her go.  
  
She pulled roughly out of the ginger haired twin's embrace and went back to her dresser, haphazardly knocking pictures off the top and into her tunic.   
  
"Shite, Chris!" Fred shouted, letting the tears fall down his freckly cheeks as he waved his arms round the room recklessly. Chris dropped the photographs into the top of her bag, inwardly cursing herself for not taking more time with her packing.  
  
"What do you want me to do then?" She asked, knowing perfectly well what it was he wanted.   
  
"God! Stay here! You're going to get yourself killed!"  
  
"Do you think that little of me Fred? I've done dangerous things before now. I live with dragons for goodness sake."   
  
Fred panted heavily, wiping vigorously at his eyes, not caring that she was seeing him---making him cry. "How can you do this? How are you doing this to me? You're just a girl. Why do I bloody care this much?" He demanded more of himself than her.  
  
"I have to go," she answered. "I have to help the fight."  
  
"It's only December." What he'd said hadn't really made much sense, but it had been what he was thinking. "I might never see you again. What if you die? Then what?"   
  
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, over the scar, and down her exposed collarbone.  
  
"And if you die what am I supposed to do then? Huh? Just go on living without you? Well that's never going to work!" He shouted across the room at her.  
  
"I'm not going to die."  
  
"You don't know that! You could be going to bloody Greenland for all I know!"  
  
"I have to go to that post or more people are going to die." He knew this was true but chose not to acknowledge the sensible portion of his brain.  
  
"I have to go," she whispered. "Tomorrow morning."   
  
"And what exactly do you want me to do? I'm not staying here without you!"  
  
"You want to come?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"No."  
  
"Chris, how---"  
  
"Damn it, Fred! What's the big deal? It's not like we're dating or anything."  
  
"`Not dating'?" Fred gaped at her. "Not dating! What have we been doing then? Just snogging in dark corners at every possible chance we get, that's what! No, that's not dating at all!" He ended sarcastically.   
  
"It was just sex, Fred! That's all!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"We both needed someway to deal with the pressures of this damn war and that was it. That was ALL it was!"  
  
"You're lying." He said softly, his words etched with pain.  
  
"Leave Fred. Just leave. I can't deal with this right now." She rubbed a scared hand over her equally scared face.  
  
"Fine." And he slammed the portrait shut behind him.  
---  
"Fred! What's wrong?" Angelina asked as Fred stormed into Gryffindor tower. "Where have you been? How'd you---"  
  
"Sod off, Angelina." Fred snapped, heading straight for the boys dormitories.  
  
"Oh, that's a nice way to treat one of your best friends!" She shouted up after him.  
  
He spun on her, "You're not one of my best friends!" and continued up the stairwell.  
  
"I hate her, George. I just hate her." He said to his twin falling onto his four-poster, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"You sound like a girl." His counterpart joked half-heartedly, bouncing onto the bed.   
  
"Thanks for the support," he made half an effort to hit George. "It's just . . . you know?" He trailed off lamely.  
  
"Not particularly."  
  
"Just being round her is . . . intoxicating."  
  
"Now, now young Fredric, come, tell your big brother what's wrong."  
  
"One minute. You're only one bloody minute older."  
  
George chose to ignore him. "Don't be a moron, Fred. Honestly, if you want her go get her! Don't be whining your bum off to me when you could just go down to her private dorm and get her. You know the password, right?"  
  
"Yes," He mumbled, rolling onto his stomach.  
  
"Then go!"  
  
"No. I'm going to bed." And with a flick of his wand the curtains of his four-poster closed off his brother.  
  
"What an idiot." He heard him mutter. "The bloody prat should be glad he's got anyone at all." And the dormitory door was slammed shut behind him.   
--  
He couldn't remember when he had fallen asleep or, for that matter, the reason he'd woken up; but when his stomach rumbled in protest at the thought of going back to bed, he left the dormitory, McGonagall's warning forgotten. Fred's original intention was to head down to the kitchens; his feet, though, had a completely different idea. Exhausted, he wiped the sleep angrily out of his eyes. A small scream came from the tiny knight in the portrait before him (the dragon had him caught in a corner of the courtyard).   
  
"Damn," he muttered, kicking the wall before him. "Featherbrain." He said softly to the portrait, bowing to the inevitable.  
  
Fred winced slightly as the frame snapped shut behind him. He stood there for a moment watching her. She lay beneath her flimsy quilt facing the tiny windowed wall. A small strip of moonlight fell across her slightly parted mouth and scarred neck and cheek, the three claw marks particularly prominent.  
  
Following his feet (they seemed to be thinking for themselves now), he slipped under her ratty quilt; completely awake.  
  
Chris's entire body tensed and he could feel goose pimples run up her bare legs as his skin rubbed against her own. His arm wrapped protectively round her waist and he pulled himself tight against her back.  
  
He lay there with her and mumbled clumsily into her ear, "I'm sorry."   
  
"I know," she answered, rolling over in his arms and nuzzling into his neck. Fred hooked his leg round hers, hugging her to him.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Chris."  
  
"I said I know." Her breath was warm and alluring on his neck and ear.  
  
"But---"  
  
"Shush," and she kissed his Adam's apple. His breath caught in his throat as her lips moved up the nape of his neck and chin until finally catching his own. His tongue parted her lips delicately and began working its way expertly round her mouth.   
  
"Fred . . ." she murmured into his mouth finally.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"I'm leaving tomorrow Fred," she positioned herself on top of him and pressed her forehead against his own.  
  
"I know," he kissed her again.  
  
"I will---miss---you---you---know---that---right?" He was kissing her in between every word.  
  
"Yes," his chin moved back to hers.  
  
"This was more then just a fling, Fred." Chris pushed him back down and folded her hands across his chest and resting her chin upon them.  
  
"I know." He watched his hands slide through her dark, lengthy tendrils, twisting one luscious lock round his finger.  
  
She smiled sweetly down at him, running her long fingers through his short red hair before her head moved itself neatly into the crook of his shoulder. Her hair pushed under his nose as she pressed a cold cheek against his skin and traced his Quidditch hardened abdomen with a rough fingertip. "Not worried about being caught now, are we?"  
  
"I don't care anymore." She smiled at him and slid down his waist, pulling off the trousers of his pajamas. She slithered back up to him, sitting squarely in between his legs, as innocent as the forest nymph she so resembled. He sat up to meet her, taking her face into his palms.  
  
She shuddered as Fred rubbed his thumb over the scar on her cheek and watched his fingers follow the shiny mark down her neck to the low collar of her small, thin shirt. His fingers slipped under the flowy sleeves and began to tug it off over her head. The scar rippled under her heavy breathing and twisted itself down the middle of her naked chest to where it finally disappeared beneath the flowery green of her underwear line.   
  
A dark blue and indigo dragon played its way near her naval letting loose a tiny burst of fire before scampering to her back.  
  
"I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing that." He laughed quietly.   
  
She only smiled her crooked half-smile, letting Fred take her into his arms. Fred rolled over her, running his fingers again through her long dark hair. Fred held her hands over her head as he began on his quest to kiss every one of her scars---starting at her slender neck.  
---  
It took Fred half an instant to realise where he was the next morning and even less time for him to pin down the exact reason he felt so insanely happy and terribly depressed all at once. A smile crept onto his face as thought of the previous night's escapades. His hand groped the left side of the bed where Chris had lain the night before. She wasn't there. Fred sat up suddenly, his eyes darting round the tiny room. Her bags were gone too.   
  
She'd left him.  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	35. Chapter 35: Marks

Xenith  
  
Chapter Thirty-five  
  
"Fred!"   
  
Fred rolled over at the sound of his brother's voice.  
  
"Fred! Come on, I know you're in there! Open up!" George pounded on the painting.  
  
Fred groaned and rolled out of Chris' bed, pulling on his clothes as he stumbled towards the entrance. "What's wrong?" Fred said, opening the painting and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
"There's been another attack," George said, grabbing hold of Fred's arm and running with him towards the hospital Wing. "In Hogsmeade yesterday and last night, they've just told us. McGonagall's going round the common rooms and taking a headcount."  
  
"Then why are we going this way?" Fred asked, pulling his 'F' jumper over his head as he kept pace with George.  
  
"McGonagall said to get Ron and Ginny and them from the Hospital Wing. They were there with Harry and got locked in yesterday morning."  
  
"They've spent the night there?" Fred said, increasing his rapidity.   
  
"That's what McGonagall told me. She said Dumbledore locked them in and they haven't been out since."  
  
"And how are we supposed to get them out?"  
  
"I don't know, I assume she's unlocked them. I had to go get you so I volunteered. There wasn't time to ask much."  
  
The twins were now outside the Hospital Wing door. George tore open the door only to have one very frazzled Harry Potter fall at his feet. "Harry!" George bent to help Harry to his feet.  
  
"Fred! George!" Ginny cried, leaping to her feet and rushing to the door, Colin at her heels.  
  
"Come on, you lot," George instructed. "Gryffindor Tower, McGonagall's waiting for us."  
  
The five scurried out after the twins trying hard not to run as they rushed back to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Do they know what---" Colin began only to be cut off by George.  
  
"They don't know much. But there was an attack in Hogsmeade and several students have been abducted. They need to take a headcount and figure out who's missing." George said. Colin was stunned; he'd never heard George speak so much at one time. Outside of his family, no-one did. George was the idea man, both Fred and George both made the idea a reality, Fred handled marketing. It had always been like that, and seeing George in charge was nothing less than a shocker.  
  
"Purple wigman." George gave the password to the Fat Lady and strode into the common room full of silent Gryffindors with more confidence than he felt, leading Fred and the five youngsters in.  
  
"Good," Professor McGonagall said in lieu of a greeting. "Please, take a seat you seven."  
  
Harry took a moment to take in the Gryffindors round him in the observing way Figg had taught him. There were more students than usually stayed for the Christmas holidays. //They're parents must've thought they'd be safer here than at home.// All had their faces drawn, some with tears making their way silently down their cheeks.  
  
"Now, I'd like everyone to take a good look round you. Tell me if someone from your dorm is missing. I've already taken the names of those who have left for the holidays---" Professor McGonagall took a moment to collect herself. "Please tell me if you notice anyone missing."  
  
Several hands shot into the air.  
  
"My sister, Lauren McDonald," Natalie McDonald squeaked out.  
  
"Sally-Anne Perks."  
  
"Graham Cauldwell."  
  
"Templeton Pritchard."  
  
McGonagall wrote down the names. "Anyone else?"  
  
"Where---where's my brother?" Colin hissed to Ginny.  
  
"Dennis Creevy," one of the boys from Dennis' dorm said quietly. Colin sunk back into his armchair, the world going numb around him.  
  
---  
  
"I should have been there," Harry said, his head once again in his hands. "I promised to keep an eye on his brother . . . I should have been there---"  
  
"Enough." Higgs said quietly from the corner he was perched in.   
  
"What?" Harry lifted his head, searching out Higgs in the corner.   
  
Professor McGonagall had sealed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Higgs in an old Transfiguration classroom and told them to wait until she returned. Harry had done nothing but murmur to himself about his failure to society since.  
  
"I said, that's enough," Higgs repeated, not moving from his shadowy nook.  
  
"Who are you---" Harry started, jumping to his feet.  
  
"Currently, I'm you babysitter," Higgs cut him off.  
  
"Well, we don't need---"  
  
"You don't know what it is you need, Potter, you're fifteen."  
  
"You---"  
  
"Why are we here?" Hermione broke in before Harry had a chance to hex Higgs.  
  
"You're to get your marks." He answered simply.  
  
"Marks?"  
  
"And here I was thinking you were smart." Higgs replied snidely, he was getting sick of Harry and Hermione, all they ever did was nag and complain.  
  
"You're to be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, to get your marks." Ron spoke up for the first time since entering the classroom.  
  
"Today?" Harry said, stunned. "Why now?"  
  
"It was scheduled," Ron shrugged.  
  
"Then why weren't we informed?" Hermione prodded.  
  
"Ron shrugged again.  
  
"Ron, how can you be so apathetic about all this? This is terribly important; you're the youngest member of the Order! I didn't even know children were joining the war effort until that meeting. Ron! Are you even listening to me?!" Hermione demanded.  
  
"What does apathetic mean?" Ron said vaguely, he hadn't been listening. Not _really_ anyway.  
  
"Oh, Ron, that's not the point!"  
  
"The date doesn't matter," Higgs said. "You need to get marked and it's high time you did."  
  
"Are you ready?" McGonagall said from the doorway, causing both Harry and Hermione to jump.  
  
Higgs snorted derisively.  
  
"You too Mr Higgs," McGonagall ordered.  
  
---  
  
Harry had never felt better in his entire life. What he was feeling now, what had just happened to him, far surpassed the surge of power he had felt on the Quidditch Pitch with Malfoy. No, now he felt almost wholey complete and content with himself. He felt . . . full.  
  
Hermione too was grinning quietly to herself, examining her hip. The feather tattoo vibrant and gleaming against her pale, creamey skin.  
  
Harry wasn't able to examine his own tattoo. The slender feather mark had been placed at the base of his back, just beneath his trouser line. Dumbledore had explained to them that the mark found the right place to situate itself on each person and wherever it decided to reside held a purpose that each would discover in due time. He couldn't see the mark, but he could feel it.  
  
Indescribable warmth was spreading from the base of his back, permeating every molecule of his being, sweeping over him in tidal waves of pleasure.  
  
"Harry?" He heard a voice call quietly to him from just outside the haze clouding his mind. "Harry, come on."  
  
"Eurgh?" Harry grunted, blinking away the haze.  
  
"Come on, it's time to go. You've got to sleep. It's Christmas morning tomorrow, you know." Fred's quiet, gathered face slowly came into focus before him; collected, as it had been, the last time Harry had been in Dumbledore's office with him. "Come on, kiddo." Fred repeated.  
  
Harry nodded vaguely and let Fred lead him out of Dumbledore's office and towards the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"How do you feel, mate?" Fred asked, slipping his arm around Harry's shoulder and helping him keep steady as he tripped over his own feet. Fred remembered all too well how he had felt after he was marked. He needed all the help he could get.  
  
"Er---ummm . . ." For some reason Harry couldn't manage to string two words together.  
  
"It's all right, just concentrate, focus, and it'll come." Fred supported Harry down the corridor.  
  
"Everything's . . . blurry," Harry managed out. "I feel great, but I can't . . . I can't seem to foc . . . focus on anything." Harry tripped again, nearly taking Fred down with him.  
  
"It's all right, kiddo, I bet'ch feel great though."  
  
"Yeah, smashing," and Harry passed out, the smallest of satisfied grins playing across his mouth.  
  
Fred scooped the lithe boy into his Beater hardened arms with more than a little difficulty and lugged him up to his dormitory and deposited him, fully clothed onto his four-poster. Fred chuckled to himself, wiped his brow, and padded his way out of the fifth year boys dormitiory.  
  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	36. Chapter 36: The calm before The Storm

Xenith  
  
Chapter Thirty-six  
  
"Hey, Harry?" Ron said, nudging Harry in the side.   
  
Harry groaned, pulling his comforter over his head.  
  
"You can't say I didn't ask nicely," Ron grinned slyly, and ripped the blanket from his friend. Harry went spinning to the ground in a mass of arms and legs and hair.  
  
Harry curled into a ball on the floor.  
  
"Harry," Ron said threateningly.  
  
"Fine, fine," Harry grumbled. "I'm up, what do you want?" Harry stumbled to his feet only them catching sight of the gifts piled at the ends of each of their beds (all five boys having stayed over for the holidays.  
  
"It's Christmas, you prat," Ron said, striding back over to his bed and attacking the presents he had piled there.  
  
Harry pulled his gifts and opened them with much less fervor than the other boys. //Why had they stayed?//  
  
"Hey, Harry," Seamus said from the bed across from him. "Better now?"   
  
Harry nodded, setting his newest Weasley jumper (scarlet with a golden Snitch emblazoned on the front) aside with a smile.   
  
"Good," Dean said from his bed. "Because I've never stayed over the holidays, except for last year, and Seamus is going to be locking lips with Lavender---" ("Hey!") "---the whole time and I'm going to need _someone_ to hang with."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Harry laughed softly.   
  
"Harry, did you open mine---" Ron started.  
  
"Happy Christmas!" Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati exploded into the boys dormitory followed by a quiet Colin and Conner Donnalley.  
  
"Hey! You're not supposed to be---" Seamus objected half-heartedly before Lavender leapt onto his bed and tackled him.  
  
"Hullo, Harry," Conner said, sitting Colin down at the end of Harry's bed. "Happy Christmas," Colin put a gift down at Harry's crossed feet. "That's for you."  
  
"Hey, Colin, are you all right?" Harry asked, putting the gift into his lap and reaching beneath his bed fro Colin's present.  
  
"He'll be fine, we just need to give him some time." Conner answered for him.  
  
"Don't worry, we'll find him."  
  
"He---"  
  
"I know," Colin cut in before Conner had a chance to reply for him. "It's just hard . . . and weird."  
  
"Here," Harry said, changing the subject as his fingers wrapped round a parchment envelope. "I got you this," Harry put the envelope, wrapped only in a thick ribbon with a large lopsided bow. "Can you guess what it is?" Harry grinned.  
  
"Thanks," Colin pulled the bow off and ripped open the envelope, pulling out the parchment within. "World Class Quidditch, a subscription," Colin read from the top of the sheet. "Cool, thanks, Harry."  
  
"No problem, I just expect to see you up in the air at every game next year, first string."  
  
"Hey! What about me?" Conner protested.  
  
"We'll see come tryouts," Harry grinned mischievously at the two keepers.  
  
"Yeah, next year," Colin smiled back. "Open you gift."  
  
Harry tore away the paper, once again ancient newsprint, to reveal a book of photographs. On the cover was a photo of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team striped green and silver and beaming brighter than the sun. He, Ron, and Hermione were lurking off to the left with their arms thrown over each others shoulders, Slytherin coloured Harry in the middle.  
  
"Do you like it?" Colin asked nervously, wringing his hands in his lap.  
  
"This is great, Colin," Harry said, running his fingers over the gilted cover. "When did you have time to do all this?" Harry asked, flipping open the album to find more photographs of himself and his housemates. Most ere of he, Hermione, and Ron, taken without their knowing, laughing and playing chess or Quidditch. Many of the photos had notes written to him from his housemates. Dean had drawn a picture of him and Malfoy coming at the Snitch from opposite ends of the page and enchanted it so the wings of the Snitch flapped and Harry and Malfoy's hair and robes flying on the wind. "Wow . . ."  
  
"You gave him his present then?" Dean asked from across the dormitory. "That's from me and Seamus too, we took it round and got all the signatures and stuff. You're welcome!"  
  
"Yeah, hope you like it," Seamus added, not looking away from Lavender.  
  
"I didn't get you anything," Conner said, straightening his pyjam shirt importantly. "But I did write you something," Conner flipped through the pages of the album and pointed to a small paragraph squeezed in between a photo of he and Colin and the Whomping Willow in its slings from second year, the former of which appeared to have been taken at an arms length. "Right there. My gift to you." He exclaimed proudly as he straightened his shirt again, took a rather elaborate bow and flopped to the floor at the foot of Harry's bed.  
  
"Thanks, Conner, it means a lot to me," Harry replied sarcastically.  
  
"No problem," Conner folded his hands over his stomach, tipped the baseball cap his dad had sent him last summer and he never took off outside of class over his eyes. Within moments he was fast asleep.  
  
"Well, that was quick, wasn't it?" Seamus said from his wrapping paper and Lavender covered four-poster. "He's an odd one, that lad is."  
  
"And you're not?" Dean shot back, gnawing on a chunk of toffee he'd received from Ron.  
  
"I call'em as I see'em---" Seamus cut off, suddenly taken over by an uncontrollable gale of laughter in which the rest of the dormitory quickly took part in.  
  
"What?" Dean asked thickly, his chocolate skin turning a dark shade of purple. Dean had eaten one of Fred and George's Skin Sweets (just out this month) which caused the victim's skin to change colours depending on the sweet. "What?!" Dean demanded.  
  
"Lo---Look at your hand!" Lavender squealed, clutching her stomach and falling back onto Seamus bed.  
  
"Ron!" Dean said indignantly, pelting Ron and Hermione, who was seated next to Ron on his bed, with the remainder of the sweets.  
  
"Hey!" Ron cried, blocking Hermione from the shower of toffees. "I never said they weren't trick sweets!  
  
"Besides," Hermione threw in. "What else would you expect from a Weasley?" She smirked mischievously up at Ron. Forgetting, momentarily, that they were in a room full of people, Ron took Hermione into his arms and tickled her ferociously.   
  
Ginny shot Harry the smallest of smiles. Harry could feel his cheeks flush.  
  
Seamus, no stranger to public displays of affection, landed one of the longest, wettest, snogs in the history of Hogwarts on an all too willing Lavender Brown.  
  
Dean, Colin, and Parvati were making gagging noises, shaking all out of their private worlds with a batch of nervous laughter.  
  
---  
  
"Well," Ron said with a yawn as they entered the Gryffindor common room, stretching his lanky arms over his head before wrapping one of them round Hermione's shoulders. "I'm full. I just love ending Christmas like that. Don't you?"  
  
Hermione could only smile sleepily up at him.  
  
"Chess tomorrow, Harry? Let's make it a tournament, eh?" Ron cocked an eyebrow at Harry.  
  
Harry scowled. "More like a slaughter."   
  
"Yeah, let's go all the Weasley's against the rest of Gryffindor!" Ron grinned.  
  
"Sure," Harry agreed lazily. "I guess I don't mind losing to you lot for a day. It'll be good for my ego."  
  
"See you in tomorrow then," Ron bid Harry off, wanting a moment alone with Hermione before leaving her to her dorm-mates.  
  
"See you, mate," Harry entered the boy's dorms, crashing on his bed, more than exhausted.  
  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	37. Chapter 37: The Storm

Xenith  
  
---  
  
"I touch the fire and it freezes me,   
  
I look into it and it's black.   
  
Why can't I feel?   
  
My skin should crack and peel . . .   
  
I want the fire back.   
  
Now through the smoke [he] calls to me,  
  
To make my way across the flame  
  
To save the day  
  
Or maybe melt away,  
  
I guess it's all the same . . ."  
  
~~~Buffy  
  
---  
  
Chapter Thirty-seven  
  
---  
  
BOXING DAY:  
  
"Can we PLEASE stop?" Harry groaned, his head falling into his hands.  
  
"This is our millionth game and we've only won three times all day. And against Fred and George, no less!"  
  
"Aww, well, we let'em win," Fred nudged Ron in the side with a wink.  
  
"Ginny's even deserted us! This is boring," Harry moaned again. "I'm tired, I want to go to bed." He said again, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Fred and George snorted with repressed laughter.  
  
"This'll be our last game, I promi---hey! That's an illegal move!" Ron scoffed, examining the chess board.   
  
"It's not illegal if you weren't looking, Ron." Hermione grinned mischievously over the board at him. Harry, Fred, and George all laughed as Hermione leant down to lift Crookshanks from the floor and Ron mumbled 'Mobiliarbus' thus forcing every chess piece to take up a new square.  
  
"What are you three laughing at?" She pulled the cat onto her lap. "Ron!" She'd caught sight of the board. "Ron, now that's defin---" They were cut off, though, by a huge bang at the fireplace on the opposite end of the common room accompanied by a blinding flash of green light.  
  
The occupants of the common room screamed and ran towards the portrait hole. Harry and Ron had leapt to their feet knocking the board to the ground.  
  
"Dean!" Seamus hollered, trying desperately to fight his way over to the fireplace.   
  
"Where's Ginny?!" Harry, Ron, Fred and George pushed through the frantic Gryffindors towards the point of the commotion.   
  
"Ginny!" Fred bellowed.  
  
"Fred! Harry! Help, it's Dean!" They could see her now, a flash of red trying to hold an absolutely frantic Seamus back with the help of Neville and the Creevy brothers. "Neville! Go get help!" The round-faced boy leapt, with amazing speed and agility, out of the portrait hole.  
  
The common room was nearly empty now, holding just the nine of them and Dean on the floor.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Seamus shouted desperately. "Get UP, Dean! Oh God, make him get up." Hermione knelt by him, muttered 'Enervate' and checked his pulse. She shook her head up at Harry, her face deathly pale. Seamus sunk to the ground; the Colin's efforts to comfort him failing miserably.   
  
"Ginny, exactly where did the attack come from? Exactly." Harry demanded, trying not to look at Dean.  
  
"The fire." She answered quietly.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We have to get out of here." Hermione whispered as the fireplace beside him began to rumble and glow green once more.  
  
From that point on everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Two Death Eaters stepped out of the towering green inferno and into the common room. Hermione managed to stun one of them long enough to get up from the floor and roll behind one of the scarlet sofas. The second Death Eater blew the furniture away sending Hermione sprawling across the room. Ron sent every curse he could think of at the Death Eater but all were deflected. The first revived the second as Fred and George tried to drag their sister out of the way. Both dark wizards started in on Harry and just like in his nightmares Harry found himself completely unable to breathe, let alone curse anything.  
  
"No!" Ginny screamed, wrenching herself away from the twins and flying at the first Death Eater. The man grunted and went smashing into the wall. He aimed his wand at the small female darting away from him. "Avada Ked---" George smashed into his other side, knocking the wizard's mask away.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny screamed again as the first Death Eater levitated an unconscious Harry Potter into the air in front of him. "Ron, help!" George leapt into the air and grabbed a hold of Harry, pulling him roughly back to the ground.   
  
The two Death Eaters, one recognizably Lucius Malfoy, were standing before the fireplace. The common room filled with screaming as they hit both George and Hermione with the Curtacious curse, and were in the process of levitating Harry again when Colin started yelling curses at the Death Eaters.   
  
That's when they attacked.   
  
Colin had provided distraction enough as to allow Ron and Fred to go flying into the two wizards, knocking them into the massive emerald fire. With a whoosh, like air being sucked through a tunnel, they were gone.   
  
But so were Fred and Ron. They too had fallen victim to the transportation flame.  
  
Harry woke with a hard shake from Ginny and looked around the room. "Where are Ron and Fred? What happened? Where'd those two Death Eaters go? Where're Ron and Fred?" He stood frantically, glaring across the room at a trembling Hermione. "Where's Ron?" He demanded.  
  
"They fell in---" She started off quietly, crawling from her corner to stand by the fire, hugging her arms to her chest as she tried to quiet her breathing.  
  
"What do you mean 'they fell in'? Into the fire? Where's Ron!"   
  
  
  
"Damn-it Harry!" Hermione shouted at him. "I don't know! They didn't say anything when they went in! They just vanished!"  
  
"Why?" Harry grabbed fistfuls of his hair and kneaded his scalp. "Why?" He couldn't handle this. His nightmares had been more persistent lately; he should have known something was going to happen. Why the hell hadn't he known!  
  
"They were going to take you Harry. What else were they supposed to do but try and save you?" Colin offered.  
  
"They should have let them take me! All of you should have! Then they wouldn't be there! There wouldn't be two of us caught! Only one! Why'd you let them do that?"  
  
  
  
"Fuck, Harry!" George swore, finally managing to get to his feet. "What would you have done if it were Ron that they had been after? Huh? Don't you dare tell me you wouldn't have done the exact same thing to try and save him---or any one of us for that matter?!"  
  
  
  
"Oh, God," Harry fell to the ground holding his head in his hands. "This is all my fault." Ginny was next to him in an instant, holding him as close as she possibly could.  
  
"No, Harry." She shook him roughly. "No, this isn't your fault and don't you dare, for one second, think it is."  
  
"Ginny---"  
  
"Listen to me, Harry," she pulled his face up. "And don't you dare interrupt." He nodded feebly, having no reserve of strength left to argue. "They would have done that for anyone. Anyone. This time it just happened to be you."  
  
"It always 'just happens to be me'." He wrenched away from her and crouched by the fire. He examined it for a moment before dipping his hand, unfeelingly, into the flame.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"What are you doing?!"  
  
"Have you gone completely mad?!"  
  
Harry didn't reply but he pulled his hand out of the fire completely unharmed. That alone quieted the common room. Harry rubbed his fingers together, searching for the burns that should have been there. //I want the fire back.// He waited for someone to say something. Anything.  
  
"Harry, we have to go to Dumbl---" Ginny began weakly but at that moment the Headmaster smashed through the portrait hole to the astonishment of all present. He was closely followed by a fraught and livid McGonagall and Snape and a determined, shaking but determined, Neville Longbottom.  
  
Harry leapt to his feet.  
  
"Dean . . ." McGonagall breathed rushing over to the fallen Gryffindor.  
  
"Was it him?" Dumbledore asked immediately.  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered quietly. "Ron's gone."  
  
"What?" McGonagall snapped round, looking to the corner that Hermione had tucked herself into.  
  
"He's gone, they took him. Both of them."  
  
"What? Who? Who else is gone? Who exactly took whom?"  
  
"Minerva, please," Dumbledore interrupted. "Quiet. I need to hear."  
  
"Dean . . . he . . . they . . ." Seamus stammered out, hyperventilating.  
  
"Hermione?" Dumbledore came in, turning his head to the girl. But Hermione just sat there, shivering like mad, and completely unable to speak.  
  
"The fire turned green," Ginny stumbled in. She felt braver now, now that the moment of truth had presented itself she felt the courage Gryffindor's, were assumedly, known for. "There was a figure in the fire for an instant and then he said it---the killing curse. Dean leapt in front of Lavender and Parvati and me, we were playing Exploding Snap in front of the . . . it was cold," she felt a need to explain everything exactly, they had to understand. To realise why Dean was dead, why her brothers were gone. "He jumped . . . he jumped in front of us---to save us."  
  
"And then everyone went running, no-one stayed to help. Then the figure was gone and then two more, two different figures, took its place. Everyone was gone, I told Neville to go for help---but Harry was there then. Harry and Ron, Hermione and George an---and Fred . . ."  
  
"We were playing chess," Hermione pushed in, regaining her voice. "There was a bang and everyone was screaming."  
  
"I couldn't get to him." Seamus stammered. "I---I couldn't reach him in time, I---I couldn't . . . I couldn't save him I didn't get to him . . . It's my fault . . . all my fault . . ."  
  
"No, no it's not, Seamus," Hermione tried to sooth. "It's no-one's fault but You-Know-Who's---"  
  
"No, Hermione. It's my fault---"  
  
"Don't say that, Harry---"  
  
"No, it is my fault---" He continued quietly.  
  
"Harr---" Ginny tried.  
  
"Fuck, Ginny! It is my fault---"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Shut-it, Hermione. I don't want your pity or your damn fake comfort. And I don't very well need them."  
  
"Harry James Potter!"  
  
"I'm not an idiot! I know it's my fault---Cedric, my parents, Dean---everyone! Fuck, Hermione, I'm the reason that everyone's dying. The only reason! You know why my parents died? To save me! Why Cedric's gone? Because of me! I was the one with the stupid idea to take the cup at the same time. It was me. Always me. He wants ME and everyone's going to die until he gets ME! The single damn problem with his whole FUCKing plan is the fact that when he's killed everyone he's not going to have anyone left to rule!" The large picture window taking up nearly an entire wall at the end of the common room imploded in on all of its occupants. Everyone ducked as large shards of glass blanketed the tower.  
  
"Harry---" Professor Dumbledore tried to calm him, knowing very well the chaos Harry's wandless magic might bring. The room started swirling with scarlet rain.  
  
"No! Don't you dare try to say anything to me! I know he wants me and I know that everyone's going to die unless he gets me and he's not going to stop. Not ever. And you want to know something Professor? You want to know what I'M thinking about doing next? Next for the ORDER?" There was another explosion as an ancient stained glass window shattered over their heads.  
  
"What Harry?"   
  
"I'm going to go! To find him and get Ron and Fred back. There's no way---no POSSible way that I'm going to let Voldemort have him." The rain was freezing now, chunks of blood red hail thrashing around their heads.  
  
"Harry, you can't stop him. Not by yourself. Not yet."   
  
"No!" Harry pointed an angry finger in the Headmaster's face. "No. No-one can make me stay here and do nothing!" An ink bottle near Hermione, undoubtedly left by one of the students, burst, covering her in indigo ink and slivers of glass. "Not even you." The hiss he ended on wasn't anywhere near human.  
  
All was silent except for a cracking coming from the brick above the fireplace.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore finally cut in.  
  
"What?" He snapped.  
  
"You can't go---"  
  
"Not even you, _Albus_, could make me stay." The crack was growing, spilling over onto the centuries old walls and ceiling.  
  
"Do you realise why he wants you, Harry? Why he needs you to succeed?"  
  
"Damn it! Without me he's nothing!" Another ink bottle exploded, this time striking Colin.  
  
"No, Harry. Without you he's everything. With you gone, Voldemort has nothing standing in his way."  
  
"I'm not leaving them there. That," he pointed desperately at the dancing orange flame. "That is not going to stay." He hissed again, as the ceiling groaned ominously in.  
  
"Do you realise what you just said, Harry?"  
  
"What?"   
  
"Harry, we can't understand you."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He let out another long, low, hiss.  
  
"You're speaking in Parsletounge, Harry." Ginny was pale and terrified at seeing Harry looking so . . . so evil.  
  
"What?" Harry didn't realise he was hissing. "What are you talking about?" He snapped at Ginny, eyes flashing. "I am not."  
  
"Harry, you're scaring me," she whispered.  
  
"I'm not doing anything!" A brick toppled from the towering fireplace followed closely by a second and a third. Gryffindor Tower was collapsing in around them.  
  
"Stop it, Harry," her voice quaked.  
  
"Stop what? All I want to do is save my friends!"   
  
"Stop it, Harry! You're scaring me!" She screamed, backing away from him.  
  
"Oh god," he breathed, his voice slipping back to English. "Oh god . . . shit . . ." Harry fell back to the floor---he couldn't breathe. "Oh god . . ." he pressed his palm to his scar; one hand pulled at the hair at the back of his neck desperately trying to block out the pounding that was running rampant though his forehead. The omnipresent reminder that served as a terrifyingly vivid landmark of his seemingly doomed life. "No . . . no . . ." he was panting now---lying curled on the floor, his head pounding, hyperventilating. No-one came to his aide, no-one hugged him close and told him it was all going to work out and his friends would be safe. Harry didn't want them to come. He had to deal with this. He didn't cry. He wouldn't cry.  
  
"Harry, we do not know why Voldemort is after you, but we can't let him have you. Not ever." Professor Dumbledore said softly behind him.  
  
"I'm not giving up on Ron." Harry mumbled into his hands, managing to collect his breathing again but not getting up from the floor.  
  
"I'm not asking you to."  
  
"I _have_ to do SOMEthing."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Albus," it was Snape.  
  
"Yes, Severus?"  
  
"Should I go to . . . ?"  
  
"Yes. Leave immediately." Snape nodded and left the tower. "Minerva," the Deputy Headmistress looked prepared to faint but she stood resolutely nonetheless.  
  
"Yes, Albus?"  
  
"Notify the Thomas'," She nodded. "They mustn't come to the school, reassure them that his body will be taken care of and returned to them at the appropriate time. Contact the Weasley's---inform them of the kidnapping. They too must not come. Molly should take in the Thomas', but even so, ask her. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes Albus."   
  
"Take Dean to the Hospital Wing."  
  
She managed to peel Seamus off of Dean and levitated him out into the corridor.  
  
"I want the rest of you to repot to the Great Hall. The rest of the students are already there and they will presume the worst if you do not show up. I will send someone to escort you down, I would but I must see to other matters. They shall arrive shortly." He examined the Gryffindor's somberly. "I do not want ANY of you to leave the tower before they arrive. Do you understand." Neville nodded for them all. Dumbledore waved his wand at the falling celing, walls, and fireplace, repairing them instantly before sweeping out of the room, the portrait slamming behind him.  
  
The silence that followed was defining.  
  
The quiet was shattered by George screaming and hurling a table across the destroyed common room before completely breaking down. Collapsing onto the floor with a howl anguish. No-one moved to him.  
  
Not even Ginny.  
  
Several minuets later the portrait hole opened again and a very ragged looking Timothy Jameson entered, beckoning, with a curt wave, that they should follow.  
  
--  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	38. Chapter 38: Contacting the Weasley's

Xenith  
  
"Where can a person be better than in the bosom of their family?"  
  
~~~Marmontel Gretry  
  
Chapter Thirty-eight  
  
Bill Weasley stepped out of his small, dusty, Egyptian home with a yawn, wincing in the bright sunlight. Bill loved Egypt---everything about it was simply fascinating. He had never really enjoyed England. It was always raining and desolately cold there. He reveled in the heat of the noon sky as the sun beat down on his unusually tanned muscled limbs as he made his way to the local Gringotts, Egyptian branch. He tipped his fedora slightly to shadow his eyes as he made his way down the grimy sun-filled street full of vendors as he worked his way up the stairs and into the white marbled building.  
  
"Grimle." He nodded cheekily as he handed his identification tag to the gray goblin standing guard over the entrance to the Gringotts offices. (The goblin had to stand on a fairly large pedestal to be at eye level with the rest of the wizarding population.)   
  
"Mr Weasley." The goblin took the badge in one warty hand and held it over Bill's right eye. The badge flashed green and Bill was allowed within.  
  
An immediate right and a short dimly lit corridor away were the only things that stood in the way of his office and a well-deserved nap before a week long escapade at Death's Corner, the worst corner in Satan's Square (a geometric gathering of ancient Egyptian wizarding tombs).  
  
He had just settled onto a small love seat (his long legs dangling over the end of it) when Palmer Thomas, the tall, rough-and-tumble treasure hunter from the cramped office next door, burst in. "You've had an owl, Bill." He tossed the letter onto his chest.  
  
"I get loads of owls." Bill replied, not even bothering to open his eyes.   
  
"Read it, Bill."  
  
"I will later."  
  
"If you won't then, I will." And he snatched up the letter with one, quick, dark hand.  
  
"Be my guest, you nosy git," Bill replied lazily. "But read it aloud, will you?"  
  
"`Dear Bill,'" Palmer began, slouching into a chair opposite him. "`You must come home immediately.'" Bill's eyes snapped open, but he remained, otherwise, completely immobile. "`Fred and Ron have been taken from the school by two Death Eaters and we need you at home. Dumbledore has some instructions for you and he wishes to speak with you through a secure fireplace and the Gringotts offices and banks are being monitored by the Ministry. Apparate to the porch at home as soon as you receive this letter. Bring Palmer Thomas too, if he is available, this matter greatly concerns him also. Burn this when you're finished with it, love from your father.'"  
  
Bill was pale, sitting bolt up-right on the love seat. "You're sure that's what it said?"  
  
"Yes," Palmer breathed.  
  
"Go tell Anders we can't go to Devil's Corner, and meet me on the steps outside. I have to burn that letter."  
  
---  
  
"Charlie?" Nathan Andrews, from California, popped his head into the dimly lit bed chambers in which Charlie Weasley, Katie Farren, Mat, Chris Jameson, and Charles Wallace (a tall mousy haired boy of seventeen) were bent over a large stack of maps.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There's a kid from Dumbledore here to see you. I told him you were busy but he said it was urgent. Say's his name is Gyro Swardson."  
  
"Send'em in." Charlie tossed down his quill and leant against the slightly moist wall behind him as a young man---boy, no older than sixteen entered the room cautiously, Nathan only a foot behind. The boy's olive skin was pale and burnt from the winds above; he was pitifully exhausted but determined nonetheless. All of Dumbledore's messengers were determined.  
  
"Charles Weasley?" He asked, liquid turquoise eyes roaming over the assembled before landing on the brilliant red head of Charlie. The kid was Greek.  
  
"That's me."  
  
"I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"Well, hand it over."  
  
"It's to be recited sir. No paper trails . . ."  
  
"Then get on with it. We have important matters to discuss," Charlie interrupted.  
  
"Yes, sir," Swardson nodded, straightened his shoulders and began to recite:  
  
"'Dear Mr Weasley, This will come as a terrible shock to you but you must agree to stay where you are no matter what.'" The messenger looked at Charlie inquiringly. "Do you agree? I am not to continue if you do not."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"'Charlie, there has been an attack at Hogwarts. Nothing of monumental proportions or I would have summoned you all. But two of your brothers were taken and one boy is dead.'" Every keeper had jumped to their feet.  
  
"Who was taken?" Charlie thundered.  
  
"That's coming, sir."  
  
"I don't care about the bloody message!" Charlie jumped him, knocking Swardson's wand out of his hand as he pinned him to the wall by the front of his fleece jumper. "Who!?" He shook him savagely.  
  
"Ronald and Fredrick Weasley." He choked out.  
  
"No . . ." Charlie let him slip out of his grasp and slumped forward against the wall. "No."  
  
"Are you all right Mr Weasley?" Swardson said after he had gathered his wand.  
  
Charlie flushed red with anger and torment as he spun on the boy, just registering Chris collapse onto the camp bed, white as a sheet, and to have Mat rush to her aid.  
  
"How?" Charlie ran his hand over his face.  
  
"I am not authorized sir."  
  
"In private?"   
  
"Possibly, sir, I do not know how much I can tell you though."  
  
"This way then," Charlie was shaking as he motioned out the doorway.  
  
"Charlie," Nathan grabbed his arm. "You okay?"  
  
"We'll talk later. Keep Katie here for me?" She was already making her way across the cave to him.  
  
"Yeah, man, no problem." He said quietly and went to intercept her.  
  
---  
  
"Tell me what happened." Charlie said when they'd seated themselves around the smoldering embers of a fire they'd all been huddling round earlier.   
  
"Mr Weasley---"  
  
"Charlie."  
  
"Charlie, I ca not tell you that much."  
  
"Please."   
  
"I do not know that much."  
  
"Anything," his voice quavered, and his hands began to shake violently as Gyro Swardson began to tell him, what seemed to be, absolutely everything.  
  
---  
  
Percy slumped behind his Ministry desk and began to pick through the day's post. On the very top of the unusually small pile was a letter addressed to him in, what he easily recognised as, his brother's untidy scrawl. He tore open the parchment:  
  
Percy,  
  
If you had any sense at all you'd come home immediately. Fred and Ron have been abducted by You-Know-Who and mum and dad are devastated. If you cared about them in the slightest you'd be here. And even though you don't want to hear this I'm going to say it anyway. Your precious Ministry is screwing everything up and leaving the entire wizarding world completely open for attack after attack. We don't know where Fred and Ron are and the Ministry sure as hell isn't going to help find them and the mountain full of other witches and wizards that have been taken. The death rate is catastrophic, and not just our world but the Muggle one too. And _ your_ 'Minister for Magic' isn't intelligent enough to realise it.   
  
If you don't come back Percy, I guess it really means that you've left our family.   
  
For good.  
  
  
  
~Bill  
  
Percy read the letter a second, and then a third, time to make sure his eyes weren't tricking him. There was no way that You-Know-Who could have gotten to his brothers. They were protected. At Hogwarts---they were safe . . weren't they?  
  
Percy leapt from his chair throwing his cloak over his shoulders and taking up his wand, dashing out of the office before he could change his mind.   
  
"Mr Weasley!" His secretary jumped as his office door slammed shut behind him. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"  
  
"I am a busy man, Lisa. I have places to be." He stormed down the rows of oak desks that lined the walls of the Ministry.   
  
"But there's nothing on your time-table!" He heard her call vainly after him, waving a piece of parchment in the air. He ignored her, nodded to the M.o.M official guarding the entrance to the Ministry offices and passed through the imence arched doorway.  
  
He couldn't Floo to the Burrow; he knew that Dumbledore had placed protection spells over the homes of all of the wizards and witches that made up the Order.   
  
Percy gathered his composure, took a deep breath, and apperated into the woods surrounding his parents house. His home.   
  
He could just make out the house through the trees. It was the place he'd grown up in, played in . . . was loved in. He ran up to the front door but paused before his fingers touched the door knob. What was he going to say to them? Cornelius Fudge had approached him after the desertion of his father at the end of last year. He'd wanted Percy as his right-hand man. Percy took the job---it was the position he'd dreamed of, how could he not take it? His family had disagreed with his new position, but they'd always loved him; were there for him. He knew that. Even though the twins had tortured him mercilessly for nearly eighteen years he knew they loved him. A pang shot though his heart as he thought of Fred.  
  
He turned the knob.   
  
The protection spells sent a shock of magic up his arm as the house strived to recognise his magical signature before the door swung open before him.  
  
Percy walked silently into the house, letting the door click back into its frame behind him. He could hear talking emanating from the kitchen. A muddled mixture of indefinable, argumentative, voices. He followed them.  
  
He wasn't noticed at first but when he was the talkative kitchen turned suddenly tomblike.  
  
"Told you he'd come, mum." Bill finally broke the eerie silence, letting the smallest trace of a smile creep over his otherwise stony features.  
  
"Percy---" his mum sighed though she made no advance towards him. His father just nodded. No-one else said anything but they did make room for him at the small table.   
  
The eight wizards and witches that littered the kitchen all watched his every movement carefully.  
  
"I---I'm sorry, mum," he finally managed out. "What happened?"   
  
"There was an attack at Hogwarts." His father began in low tones. "Another student died, Dean Thomas." At this point a witch Percy recognized as Jannie Thomas, Dean's mother, just managed to stifle a fairly audible dry sob. "A curse was sent through the fireplace I believe. Two Death Eaters emerged and tried to take Harry. Thankfully, they failed. I'm not exactly sure as to what happened after that but Ron and Fred ended up jumping the two. They all fell into the fireplace and were immediately transported away. We don't know where . . ." he trailed off.  
  
"Arthur," his dad looked up. "We really need to get on with this." Atillius Howard, an Auror who'd left the ranks of Fudge for Dumbledore, shoved a ragged hand through his cropped hair as he paced the tiny kitchen.  
  
"Yes, Arthur, really," an older woman, Arabella Figg, said from her perch across the room. "I have to be somewhere."  
  
"As do we all," Howard shot again.  
  
"This was the second attack aimed directly at Hogwarts," Arthur took charge, pushing away from the table and going to wash his hands at the sink. "And we mustn't expect it to be the last. It's currently the Christmas holiday, so none of the students have classes---"  
  
"Arthur?" Noah Thomas, Dean's father, interrupted. "I mean, we kept Dean there, most of the parents kept their children there because we thought they were safe, protected, with Dumbledore."  
  
"They are safe there," Arabella insisted. "There's no safer place---"  
  
"_He's_ managed to get into that school no less than four times. Not to mention his invasion of Hogsmeade!"  
  
"None on these attacks have been---"  
  
"All of them have been meticulously planned and carried out! Yes, Harry Potter has managed to foil His plans in the end, but not this time. My SON died this time, my youngest, and you did nothing to prevent it." Noah finished with a death glare.  
  
"Measures are being taken---"  
  
"`Measures'? What kind of measures? How many people are even in your 'Order'? Your army?"  
  
"Eighty-two wizards and witches round the world," Arabella answered, tired of trying to argue with the angry father.  
  
"And of those eighty-two, how many are over twenty-five?" Noah demanded.  
  
"Twenty-two," Arabella replied, not sure where he was headed.  
  
"Twenty-two," Noah mused, running a hand over his chin.  
  
"So, you're telling me you're having children fight you're war?"  
  
"They aren't---"  
  
"Oh, but they are. From what I've gathered your one and only hope lies in a fifteen year-old _boy_." That managed to silence the others.  
  
"How many have left?" Arthur finally broke in.  
  
"What?" Arabella asked, turning her attention to Arthur.  
  
"How many of the students aren't returning when classes start up again?"  
  
"Not too many have left Gryffindor; possibly fifteen, more likely less." Arabella answered.  
  
"And the other houses?"   
  
"Maybe thirty in Slytherin, mostly older students---"   
  
"Death Eater recruits."  
  
"Bill!"  
  
"Sorry, mum."  
  
"---nineteen from Hufflepuff, and twenty-two from Ravenclaw."  
  
"Are they safe though?"  
  
"Their safety was never a question.'  
  
"Well, make it one!" Noah smashed his fist into the table, causing more then one tea cup to topple over. "We may not have any more children there but if one more of them is taken---"  
  
"The children are our number ONE priority, Noah." The elder woman calmed. "But we do want them to be happy. They have to try to live normal lives in these times of war! But the fact of the matter is that they are not PERFECTly safe anywhere. However unfortunate, they will always be safer at Hogwarts then in their own homes. I'm sorry to say it, but those parents have made the wrong decision in taking their children from the school."  
  
"And Hogsmeade visits?"  
  
"All cancelled."  
  
"Quidditch?"  
  
"We will continue with Quidditch matches and practices for the time being."  
  
"What?!" More then one adult in the kitchen shouted in surprise.  
  
"They want to go. The students want, need, some semblance of a normal life."   
  
"But Quidditch matches, out in the open in such numbers? Are you sure that's wise?" Molly said softly from her seat.   
  
"There have been no attacks thus far, Molly, on the school grounds. And we're upping the security."   
  
Molly let out a ragged sigh. "How?"  
  
"Arch Angels, full sized dragons, gargoyles."  
  
There was silence as the wizards processed and filed this newest bit of information.  
  
"And what of the two captured riders?" Howard broke in. "What of them?"  
  
"No news yet," another voice came in; Percy hadn't noticed the man at first, he stood in the furthest, most shadow filled, corner of the room. The man was still wearing his long, black, traveling cloak over a dark tunic and pants. He had managed to blend in perfectly with the cupboards surrounding him.  
  
"Are you sure, Hayde?" Arthur rubbed a worn hand towel over his stubbly face. "Nothing of any bodies?"   
  
"They've changed tactics, Arthur." He stepped out of his corner revealing a tall, large man with, what would be, delightfully handsome, well cut, distinguished, features were it not for the scowl he wore and the death that lurked in his eyes. "The Death Eaters send up the Dark Mark but no longer leave any bodies. We don't know who is dead anymore. There have been some cases where a witness has heard, or seen, the mark being cast, but those who see it are then killed, days later, in their sleep. You were lucky," he added to the Thomas' as an after thought. "At least, when all of this is over, you'll have a body to put in the ground. Some of us won't have that privilege."   
  
An even longer silence followed this proclamation.  
  
"And my brothers?" Percy finally put in, unable to sit in the nothingness any longer. "I mean, what's Professor Dumbledore doing for them---and George and Ginny at the school?"  
  
"At the moment nothing." Arabella answered, immediately regretting her bluntness as the face of every Weasley present went ghostly white.   
  
"What?! How can you be doing nothing?"  
  
"Percy, you must realise that there is very little that we can do for Fred and Ron at the moment. We don't know where they're being kept."  
  
"And George & Ginny?"  
  
"They will keep attending classes, Percy." His father sat back by his mother, taking her shaking hands in his own. "Hogwarts will _always_ be the safest place for them.  
  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨))  -:¦:-  
  
           ¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
       ((¸¸.·´  ..·´   -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
  
     -:¦:-    ((¸¸.·´* 


	39. Chapter 39: Bad Habits

Xenith  
  
"Look at my eyes, pierce my soul, tear me apart, make me whole, for I am fallen, standing firm in heart and soul."  
  
~~~Unknown  
  
Chapter Thirty-nine  
  
Harry darted away from Hermione immediately after History of Magic, their last class of the day. Ignoring her yells of: "Harry! Where are you going?" and "Wait Harry! Talk to me!" as she ran down the corridor after him. Harry lost her though as he sped round the corner and ducked under a tapestry hiding a stairwell leading skyward. Running had never been Hermione's strong suit.  
  
He knew he was out of her sight, knew she'd never catch him now, but he couldn't stop running. He wasn't running away from Hermione anymore, he was running from everything. Everything he was destined to do, everything he was born to conquer, everyone he was to lead . . . to destroy.  
  
He couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough. They'd chosen wrong.  
  
Harry took a sharp left down the Charms corridor and smashed into a tiny first year Hufflepuff, knocking her down and spilling her books. He didn't even slow down, just leapt over her books, skidded a bit and tore through the crown that had gathered at the girl's fall. More than one head turned to watch him go and more than one voice muttering, "Was that Harry Potter?" and, "Probably fainted again and is fleeing the scene." It was almost enough to make him turn round and throw a punch. Almost.  
  
He took another sharp left at the end of the corridor and found himself, in what he and Ron liked to refer to as, The Hall o' Moving Stairs and Pictures. And the staircase before him was doing just that. "Shite," he muttered before taking a deep breath and running head-on at the fast rotating stairwell.  
  
He landed cat-like on the beaten marble.  
  
//Up.// He thought to himself, realising, for the first time since he had begun his flight, where he was headed.  
  
Harry's eyes darted up, catching sight of the highest staircase inching away from its base, moving closer and closer to the entrance to the East Towers. "This better work." Harry said aloud, throwing his wand hand into the air, the other stretched towards the marble below him. "Accio staircase!" He bellowed, knowing full well that there was no way the stairs would come hurling at him. Instead, Harry went flying towards the stairs. The fingers on his left hand tingled and numbed as the power of his spell projected him upwards towards the moving staircase.  
  
He stopped though, the minute his fingers holding his wand brushed the cold marble and almost fell. His left hand flew over his head and wrapped his elbow round the banister post. He took his wand between his teeth and pulled himself up. The staircase shook as it re-secured itself with a violent shudder that almost tossed Harry overboard.  
  
"Oh, no you don't," he growled through the holly clouding his mouth, jamming his foot into one of its many cracks and swinging his left leg over the banister. He clambered the rest of the way over the edge and landed with a soft thump on the ridged stairs. He got to his feet and peered over the edge before taking a deep breath and taking of again.  
  
Five minutes later he was at the entrance to the old Astronomy Tower, the ancient door opening before him.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and stepped out onto the equally ancient flagstone. What greeted him surprised him, to say the least.  
  
"Hiya, Harry," Seamus greeted him, stepping out of the shadows behind his back. "What are you doing here?" A trail of smoke curled out from behind him and danced over his sandy blond hair.  
  
"Seamus, what're you---are you smoking?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"No, shouldn't you be getting to dinner?" Seamus said quickly, nodding at the closed door behind Harry.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Harry replied just as quickly. "What are you doing up here? I thought no one knew about this except me and---" Harry couldn't believe he'd almost said Ron's name. He'd avoided speaking of Ron for nearly two weeks and he wasn't planning on starting now.   
  
"I was looking round for someplace private and wound up here. Big match against Ravenclaw tomorrow, eh, Har'?"  
  
"Yeah, big match," he'd forgotten about the match. "Seamus, I don't---"  
  
"Ahhh---OUCH!" Seamus exclaimed suddenly, bringing his hand out from behind his back, dropping the burnt down butt of a cigarette and sucking in his fingertips.  
  
"Seamus! What was that?" Harry took a step back from the Irishman.  
  
"A cigarette butt," Seamus snapped, friendly demeanour gone.  
  
"I knew you were smoking."  
  
"Wow, aren't you a smart one."  
  
"Why are you smoking, Seamus?"  
  
"Stress," Seamus moved to the side of the tower and sat, legs dangling over the edge. "Anger, rebellion . . . but mostly relief."  
  
Harry sat down next to him. "When did you start?"  
  
Seamus snorted a laugh. "Two weeks ago, about. M'older brother sent'em to me, he took after me da---Muggle all the way."  
  
"Do they work?" Harry asked tentatively.  
  
"What?" Seamus looked over at him, a new cigarette dangling from his mouth.   
  
"Are you still all stressed or . . . whatever?" Harry continued nervously, not sure what he was getting himself into but knowing he needed something and this was the first REAL thing he'd come across in two weeks.  
  
"It helps . . ." Seamus said slowly, trying to work out what Harry was getting at. "It takes a little while, but then it helps. What, you want one?" Seamus offered Harry the package.  
  
Harry's hand moved toward the package and he had the cigarette in his hand before his brain had a chance to figure out what the hell he was doing. "Thanks," he said dryly, rolling the tobacco tube over his fingers.  
  
"You want a light?" Seamus held out a match box.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"Not that you'd need one anyway."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I was upset but I still saw you stick your hand into the fire. Not burned like me now, are you?" Seamus cocked an eyebrow at him and showed him his burnt fingertips.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Harry said with a scowl, putting the cigarette into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it, testing out how it tasted. It was awful. "This tastes terrible."  
  
"I know," Seamus took a long drag off his own. "They're disgusting."  
  
Harry ran his fingers down the length of the cigarette, igniting the end. Harry jumped, startled.  
  
"That was a cool trick," Seamus said, watching with minimal amusement as Harry inhaled and nearly choked. "Here, I'm done for today," Seamus stood and tossed the package to Harry.  
  
"Thanks," Harry coughed out.  
  
"I'll keep these though," he shook the box of matches at him. "YOU won't be needing them, now, will you?" Harry shook his head, examining the smoking cigarette like a piece of art he couldn't fully comprehend.  
  
Seamus turned to go back inside.  
  
"Don't come back here again, Seamus," Harry said quietly, putting the cigarette to his lips. "Find someplace else."  
  
"Yeah, no problem, mate," Seamus replied just as quietly, knowing exactly where Harry was coming from.  
  
Harry flicked his cigarette butt over the edge of the tower and watched as the wind caught it and carried it into the forest. He let his head fall into his hands, as he so often did of late, and watched the day fade slowly away from him over the treetops of the Dark Forest.  
  
---  
  
Harry couldn't have said how long he sat there but his nose was cold and running as the moon rose full and glistening over the lake. The entrance of moonlight into the, currently, starless night provided Harry with enough light to be able to see a small troupe of people scatter out of the castle doors and onto the grounds. Harry sighed, he knew exactly what it was. A search party come looking for him.  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck, //I really should go back. But I really don't want to.//  
  
"Harry?" His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice from the doorway behind him. He turned to find Ginny, her arms wrapped tightly round herself as she moved closer to him. Harry turned back to the forest.  
  
"Go away, Ginny," She sat down beside him.  
  
"You can talk to me, you know that."  
  
"I came here to be alone."  
  
"We were sent to look for you." Harry snorted in disgust. "You're not the only one hurting, Harry."  
  
He didn't reply.  
  
"I---I lost two of my brothers." His eyes darted to her for a moment before going back to the miniscule shadows scurrying over the grounds.   
  
"Shouldn't you signal to them that you found me or something?"  
  
"No, we can go when you're ready." Her teeth were chattering. "But you can't bottle up all of your emotions like this, it isn't healthy."  
  
"Ha! You're one to talk. I've seen the junk you eat.  
  
"And I've seen the junk you DON'T eat," She shot back.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"What have you eaten since that night?"  
  
"I can't remember everything I've eaten in the past two weeks."  
  
"Well, I can. You've had half a piece of toast and a bowl of soup."  
  
"You're stalking me now?"  
  
"I am not! I 'm worried about you."  
  
"Well you needn't be. I'm . . ." he took a shuddering breath. "Fine."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"Well how am I supposed to be?!" He half-shouted, thankful they were so high up and his voice didn't carry to the search party below. "I lost my best friend." He could feel Ginny move closer to him, shivering against his side. "He's gone---dead for all I know! And it's all because of me. Me! And I don't even know why." It had begun to snow, soft flakes falling from the cloudless sky. Big, red snowflakes.   
  
"He's not dead, Harry." He felt Ginny's hand slide over his and finally looked over at her---tears welling in his eyes. "They're not dead. They can't be."  
  
"Go away, Ginny," Harry growled, ignoring the warm hand pressed against his own. "You're better off without me." It was Ginny's turn to be speechless. "Go away!" He shouted, turning on her, rage pouring from his emerald orbs.  
  
"You can't scare me, Harry." Her barely constrained tears imperceptible in her voice.   
  
"I don't want to," he said softly, turning away.  
  
"Harry . . ." Ginny twined her fingers with his.  
  
"Why do you like me, Ginny?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why do you---everyone, really . . . like me so much? I've never really done anything."  
  
"She thought a moment before answering. "If you want to know why people like you, it's because your survival prevented, at least for a while, the survival of You-Know-Who. You ended his reign of terror just by being there. The Gryffindors like you because you win them matches, and even if you don't like it or mean it, you bring them fame by association. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws like you because you've managed to humiliate the Slytherins on more than one occasion. But if you want to know why _I_ like you, Harry, it's because of all those things and none of them at all. Those are all the things that make you who you are, Harry. You wouldn't be you without them." She squeezed his hand.  
  
He squeezed back.  
  
"Now, let me ask you something."  
  
"All right."  
  
"Is this your doing?" She held out her hand and caught one of the giant, crimson snowflakes.  
  
Harry nodded  
  
---  
  
  
  
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	40. Chapter 40: Torture

Xenith  
  
"Once you have experienced a fear, it becomes less terrifying."  
  
~~~Dune  
  
Chapter Forty  
  
"How long do you think we've been here?" Fred rubbed at the carpet of stubble on his chin. "Well into two months, I'd think," he answered himself. "I mean, take a look at this," he moved his hand away. "I'm thinking about keeping it when we get out of here. Some of it anyway. What do you think of a goatee?"  
  
Ron sighed. "I miss her. I didn't think I would this much but I do."   
  
"We're going to need new wands too," Fred mumbled more to himself then his brother.   
  
"What do you think they're doing?"  
  
"And a haircut."  
  
"Fred---you're rambling to yourself."  
  
"I know, but this way I don't have to think about anything."  
  
"It's nearly sunset."  
  
"I know, that's what I don't want to think about."  
  
"He's coming soon."  
  
"I know." They always knew. Everything went cold and the sounds of torture and death quieted as the Death Eaters prepared for their master.  
  
"I can hear them . . ." Ron trailed off. "They're coming."  
  
"Now."   
  
A key scraped through the lock before them.   
  
"Well," Voldemort said in lieu of greeting. "My servants tell me you still haven't given us what we want." Ron glared at the cloaked figure. "Now do you really want me to continue with the interrogation, boys?" They didn't answer. "Is that a yes?" With an almost lazy wave of his wand Fred was thrown against the wall; the air knocked from him as he slid to the floor.  
  
"Fred . . ." Ron said quietly though not moving to his brother.  
  
"You're his closest friend," Voldemort moved in to Ron now. "You know everything he does; I know he tells you everything." Ron began to slide up the cold stone behind him. "Come now, tell me what you know."  
  
"No." Ron spat into his face.   
  
"Crucio!" Ron screamed as tremors of pain tore through his entire body. "Now do you want to tell me what you know?"  
  
Ron was still shaking halfway up the wall as the curse subsided. "Did I tell you anything last time?"   
  
"Should I get the potion m'Lord?" A voice came from within one of the cloaks of the hooded Death Eaters.   
  
"How many times do I have to say this Goyle, the potion won't work. Everyone in Albus' ridiculous order was given an immunity spell that I have been unable to break due to the fact that it is specified to the individual wizard that creates it! That is the same reason that I have been unable to put them under The Imperius Curse you invalid." Voldemort gave the impression that he'd repeated himself to the elder Goyle quite often.   
  
"Now," he smashed Ron into the wall above him. "You want to tell me, don't you?" Smash. "Or do you want me to continue with this _ particular_ order of questioning?" Ron spat at Voldemort again only this time it was blood that covered the snake face. "Still not talking? Well I do enjoy screaming nearly as much as I enjoy talking. Crucio!" Tremors of pain ripped though his entire body as he twisted and flailed in the air above the Dark Lord's head. He screamed less though. The pain always seemed less the second time around.   
  
Voldemort let Ron smash into the ceiling once more before he crumpled to the ground coughing up more blood.   
  
"Leave me." Voldemort directed his servants.   
  
"But, my Lord---" They protested.   
  
  
  
"Need I repeat myself?"   
  
  
  
"No m'Lord." The men scurried out of the dungeon like the rats they were.   
  
"I can't get to Harry Potter." Voldemort mused to the two boys. "I hate to say it but he's out of my reach. Protected by that bloody Order at every turn and Dumbledore and even those ruddy Muggles he spends his summer with. I can't get to him. It drained me of most of my power to send those two into Hogwarts to retrieve him. Instead they got you. You ruined my plan!" The two boys couldn't breathe. All the air had been sucked from their lungs as Voldemort raised a clenched fist at them. "I would kill you but unfortunately you are the most important link I have to Harry Potter. So you live. For now at least."  
  
"You bore me." He continued circling the small, high-ceilinged dungeon, spinning the two boys slowly above him. "Did you know that? It's a good thing you are so close to Harry Potter, because without your wands you are nothing but insolent, insignificant Mudblood lovers and would have died the _instant _ captured." He twisted his wrist and the two boys fell from the air.  
  
"Don't say that," Ron hissed from the floor.   
  
"What?" Voldemort turned on Ron.  
  
"I said," Ron was dragging himself up, through the lingering pain, to his full, and considerable, height. "I said, don't say that."  
  
"Don't test me boy."  
  
"Then don't say that."  
  
"Crucio!" He doubled over in anguish but didn't scream. Ron strained to straighten himself up to a sitting position, using all his will to block out the pounding in his head and the burning on his skin. "I'll be back. Tomorrow isn't going to be a fun day for the Weasleys."  
  
---  
  
~~~One AM~~~  
  
The door slammed behind the Dark Lord and all of the oxygen was sucked from Fred's body. He felt as if a large hand had taken hold on his lungs and pulled every last wisp of air from them.  
  
He was on the verge of blacking out when he was allowed to breathe again.  
  
But only for an instant.  
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed. Fred began to convulse---curling in upon himself as his skin crawled---burned. Every nerve felt as if it was exploding over and over again under the pressure of the curse, much worse, and much stronger, then the previous night.   
  
And just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The door slammed again and the pain was gone.  
  
"W-what . . . was that?" Ron panted out, lying on the floor and holding his stomach as he vomited.  
  
Fred rubbed at his aching head before answering as he listened to Ron's heaves. "That would be the beginning of our FUN day." Ron was kneeling now, clutching his abdomen as dry retches continued to tear through his entire body; drops of blood littered the vomit and stone beneath his knees. "You're going to regret that."  
  
"Regret what?" Ron asked finally, wiping the mess from his face on to the un-torn knee of his pants.  
  
"Throwing up. You do realise that we aren't to be fed for a while?"  
  
"And you call that muck they feed us food?"  
  
"You okay though?" Fred looked across the dungeon to his brother but didn't move to him. //He's too young for this. We're all too bloody young.//  
  
"Just another day in hell Fred. Just another day."  
  
---  
  
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	41. Chapter 41: Neville, Neville, brave and ...

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-one  
  
"Hey, Harry mate, hear this," Seamus read from the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast later that week. "`White Knight Massacres Muggles! 12 January; a man, pale of skin and slender of stature, single-handedly terrorises the Muggle town of Little Hangleton leaving one only just alive.' Writes Dasher Weis, special correspondent. 'Authorities were unable to identify the 'White Knight' due to the fact that the only survivor fell into a Critacious induced coma shortly after being picked up by Mungo authorities. The Muggle now chants only: "I'm right here Potter, come and get me. I'm right under your nose." In his sleep. The Ministry for Magic believes this to a message from the 'White Knight' to the Boy-Who-Lived. And rightfully so.  
  
'Harry Potter, currently a fifth year at Dumbledore's school (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), is believed to be the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself and is thought by many to be the only one capable of destroying You-Know-Who. That is, if he really has returned. We at The Daily Prophet, however, are firm believers to the contrary on both accounts.'"  
  
"That's crap," Harry interrupted, throwing his fork angrily at his plate and sending it flying off the opposite side of the table at the passing Higgs' feet. Harry ignored both. "Dumbledore's going to handle it. I'm only fifteen, I haven't a chance against Voldemort."  
  
"You really think that?" Higgs said, stooping to pick up the fallen flatware.  
  
"I have to." Harry replied quietly, anger slipping quickly from his tone.  
  
"Then you need a reality check, Potter." He tossed the plate back on the table. "Contrary to what you may think, this IS a school, not a fortress. And Dumbledore? He's just a man. A very OLD man. And if you believe otherwise, Potter, you'll never survive this. None of us will." And he strode out of the hall, leaving the fifth years, George, Lee, and Ginny, in shocked silence.  
  
"Well, anyone know what that was about?" Hermione asked, laying the framework for Harry to cover.  
  
"He's completely nutters," Ginny added.  
  
"Has been since he got bumped to reserve," Harry capped off, their excuse finding itself acceptable among their peers.  
  
"So, what do you think's happened to Malfoy?" Neville asked with a shudder.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, turning to his round faced friend on his left. "What do you mean, 'Happened to Malfoy'?" Harry peered over Ginny's head at the Slytherin table, noticing, for the first time, that many of the Slytherins were missing from their usual seats.  
  
"Well, he didn't come back after the holiday, now, did he?" Neville continued, braver. "Neither did more then half of the older students."  
  
"You don't think . . ." Hermione murmured to Harry from his right.   
  
"Later," Harry hissed back.  
  
"And there are more students missing, besides Slytherins, I mean," Neville persisted.  
  
"What have you heard, Neville?" Harry pressed.  
  
"I don't know if I should---"  
  
"Neville . . ." Harry growled.  
  
"Well, there are seven Hufflepuffs gone, three of them because their parents wouldn't let them come back, but the rest . . ."  
  
"What about Ravenclaw?" Ginny demanded.  
  
"Fif---" Neville cleared his throat. "Fifteen from Ravenclaw."  
  
"Shite," Seamus exhaled.  
  
"Five weren't allowed back, one was . . . was attacked---"  
  
"Who?" Ginny commanded.  
  
"Terry Boot."  
  
"And Gryffindor?"  
  
"Only three weren't allowed back, third and second years."   
  
"How'd you find all this out then?"  
  
"I listen," Neville said softly. "People think that I don't really matter and that even if I did overhear them, who would I tell?" He snorted.  
  
---  
  
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	42. Chapter 42: Record Breaking Quidditch

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-two  
  
"Are you sure you're ready for this, Harry?" Katie asked Harry as the stood beneath the stands awaiting the start of the Gryffindor Ravenclaw match. Harry nodded resolutely. "I mean, I know that article must have struck a sore spot, but we need to stick to what's important, right?" Harry gave no sign that he had heard her. "You know, I wouldn't be making you do this, Harry, if we didn't need you. If we win this match we'll be in the play- offs against Slytherin. I don't know why we didn't pick up a reserve Seeker during try-outs, but---"  
  
"And now, the best team in the school, sporting their traditional scarlet and gold . . . Gryffindor!" Lee's magnified voice broke in. "Here's Bell!"  
  
"That's my cue," Katie said with a smile, taking off into the air.  
  
"Johnson! Weasley! Weasley! Bettany! Donnalley! Aaand . . . Potter!" Each player took off as their name was called and took a lap round the stadium before they took their traditional place over the pitch.  
  
"Okay!" Madam Hootch called up to the players. "You know the rules! You're good kids, I expect a nice clean match!"  
  
"And there goes the Snitch!" Lee called. "The Quaffle is up and the players are off! Gryffindor's Ginny Weasley takes the Quaffle immediately and shoots towards the Ravenclaw goalposts! And she---what the hell! Did she drop the Quaffle?! No! Shite, that was the best Porskoff Ploy I've ever seen on this pitch! Tell me, where DID the girl learn it all?!"  
  
Ginny didn't acknowledge Lee's prattle as she shot after Adrian Pucey.  
  
"Wait! What's this?" Lee said, bowing his head to Professor McGonagall as she hissed in his ear.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, sat calmly on his broomstick rolling the tiny Golden Snitch over his fingers, not ready to announce his catching of it just yet. The weather was too perfect to end the match just yet.  
  
"It appears that that last goal did NOT count," Lee announced into the megaphone.  
  
"What!?" Ginny shouted turning on Lee, a string of creative curse words escaping her mouth before she could stop them.  
  
"Wow, now aren't you a fiery one, but let me explain WHY it does not count before you jump down my throat. It appears," Lee paused for dramatic effect. "That the Snitch has been caught."  
  
"What?!" Cho exploded. "I didn't catch it!"  
  
The entire stadium turned their heads up to Harry. He shrugged, palming the Snitch before anyone could see it.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny said, flying up beside him as the rest of both teams flew down to where McGonagall, Hootch, and Lee were conversing. "Do you have it?"  
  
Harry let the Snitch peek out from between his fingers.  
  
"Why are you hiding it?"  
  
He shrugged, rubbing his thumb over the engravings covering the golden ball.  
  
"Come-on, Harry." Ginny tugged Harry's broom down and together they landed on the pitch beside their teammates. Ginny pushed her way to Madam Hootch and said: "He's got it."  
  
"What? Well, well, well, Mister Potter, congratulations," Hootch said. "We've got a time on that ball and you managed to catch that ball in 2.7 seconds." The small crowd parted and allowed Harry to approach her. "I assume you know what that means?" The instructor was doing a poor job at controlling her pleasure.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said softly. "I've beaten Roderick Plumpton's record by .8 seconds."  
  
"And the catching of the Snitch as been confirmed!" Lee bellowed into the megaphone. "Harry Potter has broken the record by POINT EIGHT seconds, beating a record held by Roderick Plumpton for the past eighty years!" Three fourths of the crowd (Ravenclaws included) exploded in wild cheers as hand after hand clapped Harry on the back.  
  
"I'm going back to the dorm," Harry muttered to Ginny, pushing himself back through the crowd and towards the castle, managing to make it off the pitch and out of the stadium before the crowd could catch up with him.  
  
"That was some catch there, Potter," Terence Higgs drawled from the shadows at the edge of the stadium.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry snarled, turning on Higgs.  
  
"I saw you catch that, just reached out in front of you. Smashing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come on, take a walk with me," Higgs started off, towards the castle.  
  
---  
  
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	43. Chapter 43: Come on Harry, get a clue

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-three  
  
"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they rounded the corner of the castle, going a way, Harry realised, he'd never been before.  
  
"The gardens," Higgs responded drearily. "You really should see them, they're beautiful this time of year."  
  
"Higgs," Harry said, trying to sound threatening. He didn't think it worked, however, he was quite tired.  
  
"This is the route we are going to take every morning on our daily jogs," Higgs answered, reaching into his cloak pocket and pulling on his gloves.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, wishing only for further elaboration, the surprise of receiving new instructors had managed to wear off quite some time ago. "What am I training for now?"  
  
"Oh, this is just so you'll be physically fit when the time comes for you to _really_ face off against the Dark Lord."  
  
Harry nodded. "Hey, Higgs?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Why is it you're on our side? I mean, you still call him 'the Dark Lord'. What's your deal?"  
  
"What's anyone's deal, Potter?" Higgs asked.  
  
"Do you expect me to answer that?"  
  
"_I_ only expect ONE thing from you, Harry Potter."  
  
"That being?"  
  
"That, when the time comes for you to face the Dark Lord, you stand up strong and except whatever hand you're dealt."  
  
"You think I might lose then?" Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and snuck a sidelong glance at Terence.  
  
"I think that you're only human and humans have a tendency to fail," Terence shot back. "Look."  
  
"Wha---" Harry looked up from his shoes, his breath catching in his throat as his senses were overwhelmed by the sight before him. "How come I've never seen these before?" Harry asked, walking further into the gardens, touching a crystallised flower bud with his rough fingertips.  
  
"Because you've never taken the time to look," Higgs answered simply, following a few paces behind Harry. "You'd be surprised how many things you can see if you just take the time to look. Observation, Harry, observation."  
  
Harry turned back to Terence at the sound of his first name but said nothing.  
  
"This is just one of many gardens on this side of the castle, come along," Terence led Harry through the gardens and up a path into the mountains, the way leading back towards Hogsmeade Station. "Now, the jog is quite long, and you mustn't take it by yourself. Understand?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because going this far away from the castle isn't safe," Harry was about to interrupt that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but Terence interrupted. "Being this far away from the castle isn't safe for anyone, Harry, just you especially."  
  
"Just what's that supposed mean?" Harry demanded.  
  
"You know exactly what that means."  
  
Harry ignored him, trudging away from Terence.  
  
"Look, this is where we'll be turning to go back to the castle."   
  
Harry turned round and headed back towards the castle with Terence.  
  
"It's a three mile jog, you think you can handle that everyday?" Terence asked, trying to remain civil against Harry's constant wall of anger and distrust.   
  
"I can handle it," Harry snapped.  
  
"What's you're deal, Potter?" Terence said, stopping and grabbing Harry's shoulder and turning him roughly to face him.  
  
"What?" Harry demanded, shaking Terence's hand off of him.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you? You're always pushing everyone away and---"  
  
"And what?! Losing all of my friends?" Harry advanced on Terence. "You don't think all of this is killing me, Terence? Who the hell do you---"  
  
"I know exactly who I am, Harry," Terence grabbed hold of the collar if his Quidditch robes and pulled his face up to his, their noses brushing. "The question is, who do you think you are?"  
  
---  
  
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A/N: Okay, sorry it took so long and I'm sooo sorry it's so short. But at least it's here, right? Well, the next one's already in the works so it should be out shortly. But who knows? School starts soon so we'll never know!!! 


	44. Chapter 44: Quizzes and Babies

Xenith  
  
A/N: Okay, so I know it took forever for me to get this chapter out, but school just started, I'm in a play, I have a job, and the boyfriend is quite demanding on my time. Sorry! Well, here, enjoy.  
  
Chapter Forty-four  
  
"As you all should know, your O.W.L.s are beginning tomorrow," Professor McGonagall told her fifth years from the front of the Transfiguration room.   
  
//What?!// Harry's head snapped up from his Transfiguration notes, which, in actuality, was just an hour and a half's worth of doodles. Harry had managed to completely forget about the coming exams.  
  
"I am now passing out your timetables for the exams, once you have your timetable you may go. Good luck." Professor McGonagall finished as the students gathered their things and filed out of the classroom. "Mister Potter, may I have a moment?" She called to him; Harry shrugged and made his way to the front of the classroom.  
  
"Mister Potter, I know that this year has been quite, shall we say, tough for you---"  
  
"Really?" Harry snapped snidely.  
  
"I'll ignore that comment," McGonagall said sharply. "But I still expect you to perform up to par on your O.W.L.s. You've been studying, I presume?"  
  
//No, I managed to forget completely.// "Yes, Professor," Harry answered.  
  
"Very well, I will see you at your exam then."   
  
Harry nodded and left the room headed for his last Defense class.  
  
"There you are, Harry," Hermione said when he finally slid into his seat at the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry nodded and pulled out his sheet of doodles. "What took you so long?"  
  
"McGonagall wanted to make sure I had studied for the O.W.L.s," he answered.  
  
"And did you?" Hermione pressed.  
  
"Yes," Harry lied.  
  
"Today," Professor Figg said, striding out of her office at the side of the classroom to the front of her students. "You will be taking a practice exam to help you prepare for your O.W.L.s. You should all be happy to know that there will be no written portion for your exam." There were very few smiles around the room at this news. Then again, there were never many smiles around any more. "All right, now, I'd like everyone to stand up and take your books," she waited while the class complied. "Good, now stand back," she waved her wand and every desk in the room disappeared. "Put your things in the corner, please. Good, now, can anyone tell me everything we have covered over the course of this year?  
  
The room was quiet.  
  
"As I thought, line up," Figg paced in front of her students, something was bothering her. "Finnigan, step forward," she snapped, coming to a halt in front of him. Seamus stepped forward slowly. Before he could even get his wand up Figg hit him with the Jelly Legs curse. First year Defense, Seamus should have been able to block it easily. He didn't. "Very disappointing, Finnigan," Figg chastise removing the curse. "Boot!"  
  
Terry Boot scurried forward, wand ready, hand shaking.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Boot threw up a shaky shield and ducked out of the way as the disarming spell blasted through the shield.  
  
"Stupefy!" Figg shouted again, sending another curse at Boot without waiting for him to regain his footing. This time the curse caught Boot's wand hand, missing it by inches as Figg summoned the fallen wand.  
  
Professor Figg released Terry Boot from the curses and shoved his wand back into his hand with a short, "Back in line, Boot." Boot scurried back in line, eyes down.  
  
"Parkinson!" Pug-nosed Pansy Parkinson moved out of the line with only the slightest trepidation. "Who is your father, Parkinson?"   
  
"What?" Pansy, who had obviously been expecting a fight, demanded.  
  
"Answer me."  
  
"Palleton Parkinson."  
  
"Explain what it is his name means."  
  
"Fighter."  
  
"And what have you learned from him?"  
  
Pansy stayed quiet.  
  
"I suppose you will have to show me then, hmmm? Engorgio!" Figg brandished her wand at Pansy, an explosion of yellow light shooting from its tip.  
  
Pansy dropped immediately into attack position at the first sign of Figg's attack, countering with the splitting spell. "Diffindo!" The two spells collided in the air between them, rocketing off one another and shooting into the walls, skimming over the heads of several of the fifth years.   
  
"Densaugeo!" Figg shot at Pansy, moving faster then she had with any of the other students.  
  
"Impedimenta!" The Impediment Jinx caught Figg full in the chest, slowing the professor down considerable, giving Pansy time to let an almost casual, "Incendio," roll off her tongue. The hems of Figgs robes ignited.   
  
Hermione sent a stream of water from her wand, extinguishing the flames, before she lifted the Impediment Jinx.  
  
The class, all except the Slytherins, eyed Pansy suspiciously. Any doubt thet may have remained in any of their minds that several of their peers were in league with the Dark Lord was now gone.  
  
"Back in line, Parkinson," Figg nearly panted.  
  
---  
  
Charlie handed his clear identification tag, his signature scribbled along the bottom, to the taller of the two wizards standing guard over the entrance to the underground caverns. The wizard held the card in front of his eye, the badge flashed green and Charlie passed into the shadows of the dwarf tunnels beyond, Chris, Mat, and Katie close behind. Charlie slowed down, letting Mat and Chris pass ahead of him. He caught hold of Katie's arm as she knocked past him, pulling her back to his side.   
  
"What's wrong, Katie?" He demanded, his voice quiet to avoid being overheard by Chris and Mat.  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Charlie," she hissed back, ripping her arm from his grasp.  
  
"Then why---"  
  
"Charlie, Katie," Chris called from the end of the passage. "Do you want us to wait for you?"  
  
"No," Charlie answered, never tearing his attention from the witch before him. "Give us a minute, we'll catch you up."  
  
Chris nodded, taking Mat's hand and turning into the area they used as a sort of community/living cave.  
  
"Why---" Charlie started again, but Katie was already pulling away from him again. "Damn it, Katie, I want to know why you're so bloody cranky all of the time!" Charlie said, grabbing hold of Katie's forearm again and turning her about. She winced as her shoulders crashed against the packed dirt wall. "What did I do?"  
  
"Everything." Katie breathed.  
  
"What? Tell me what happened!"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Why are you so bloody mad at me? What did I do?"  
  
"This Charlie!" She snatched his hand and pressed it to the air in front of her stomach. He could feel something---a bulge. "What---" He started but cut himself off as the bulge . . . kicked. "Are you---?"   
  
"Yes and it's all you're fault!" She tore his hand away, knocking him into the opposite wall.   
  
"When did . . . when did . . ."  
  
"Did this happen?" She finished for him.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"November."  
  
"It's May! You're seven months along? Why'd you hide it, why the hell didn't you tell me?" He bellowed across the three feet separating them. "How were you---ARE you---hiding it!"  
  
"Charoillison," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"WHAT!"   
  
"The Charm of Illusion---a bloody ILLUSION charm!" She cried.  
  
"That's dangerous! Take it off! NOW!" Charlie demanded. She touched the tip of her wand to the air in front of her stomach and muttered the counter spell. In the dim, flickering, candlelight Charlie could see the air before her go fuzzy as her shirt seemed to expand, accommodating her girth.   
  
"Is that better Charlie? Is that what you want?" She scowled.  
  
"Why'd you hide it?"  
  
"Why do think, Charlie?" She wept, knocking his hands away and covering her face with her own. "Your brothers have been taken, we're fighting a war, and . . . and, God, Charlie! I know you don't love me, but I couldn't give it up, I just couldn't."  
  
"What---? I mean . . ." What could he say? Charlie knew he didn't love her, not enough to start a family with her anyway. But a baby? He couldn't just leave her on her own with a child. _His_ child. Weasley's didn't do things like that, they were better then it. "I won't make you do this on your own, Katie. I'm not that kind of guy."  
  
"Don't you think I know that, Charlie?" Katie cried. "But I don't want this child to grow up in a place where it knows it wasn't wanted! That's why . . . why I'm putting it up for adoption," she said, sliding to the ground and not looking at him.  
  
"No," Charlie said darkly. "I won't let you do this to me or our baby. No."  
  
"So, what do you want? We can't get married, not like this, I won't do it."  
  
"Well, what do you want us to do? It's my child too and if _you_ won't keep it then I will."  
  
---  
  
tbc 


	45. Chapter 45: Rescue Mission

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-five  
  
"Does everyone understand what they are supposed to be doing?" Timothy Jameson addressed his team in a husky whisper. The four wizards and single witch nodded their understanding. "The apperation point is set for a forest we believe to be just outside of Malfoy Manor. and, remember people, this is a rescue operation, I don't want anyone else caught and if we can get out of there without any loss of life, that would, obviously, be ideal." Timothy's eyes lingered momentairly on each member of his team, there was no way they were all going to make it. "I'll see you all back here in two hours," and he dispaerated.  
  
"Ready?" Bill asked Palmer Thomas, hiding the nerves he felt running through his stomach. Palmer nodded.  
  
In an instant they were gone, apperating moments later behind a wall of shrubbery. Bill spared a moment's glance at Palmer before darting towards Malfoy Manor.  
  
Bill halted when he reached the edge of the wood, drinking in the great Manor towering over them. The structure was massive, castlesk in its enormity, with centuries old trees scattering the lawns pouring from the Manor.  
  
During their *debriefing* they had been told that the lawns and Manor in general would be rigged with curses and traps. And crossing a completely open, unquestionably rigged, owned by the Malfoy's, expanse was possibly the most idiotic thing that any wizard, no matter how skilled, could possibly do.  
  
Bill took a deep breath . . . and ran . . .  
  
--  
  
"Very good, Miss Weasley," Professor Figg said, scratching Ginny's grade onto a large scroll of parchment. "Full marks, send n the next person please." Ginny nodded, exited the Defense classroom, and nodded for the next student to go in.  
  
It was her last exam of the year and she had received full marks on every exam. Perfect. //That's better than Percy, even.// She thought to herself as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Gin," Hermione said, ambushing her the moment she entered the Common Room. "You have to go talk to Harry!"  
  
"Why, what's happened? Is he all right?" Ginny said, striding over to the stairwell to the boys dorms, all thoughts of her exams dissaperaring from her thoughts.  
  
"I don't know, I don't think so. He's barricaded himself in his dormitory and won't let me in or talk to anyone."  
  
When Ginny reached the boys dormitory she found all of the 5th year boys, some of the upperclassmen, and the majority of the Gryffindor Quidditch team waiting outside the door. Ginny pushed her way to the door, the crowd around her going quiet.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny said softly, knocking lightly on the door. "Harry, it's me, let me in," she lifted the latch, the door swinging open before her. the students behind her standing on their toes to try and get a glimpse into the shadow filled room. Ginny shut the door behind her, casting a silencing charm on the entrance.  
  
"Harry?" She asked, squinting in the dark, taking several tentative steps forward. She heard a groan from the corner bed, the wood creaking as Harry rolled onto his side in the fetal position, his back to Ginny. her eyes adjusted as she picked her way through the piles of mess covering the floor. She perched lightly on the end of Harry's bed, gazing sadly at Harry's back. "What happened?" She said soothingly, wanting to reach out to him but holding herself back.  
  
He didn't reply.  
  
"Why'd you let me in?"  
  
He shrugged, hugging himself closer.  
  
"Harry . . ."  
  
"I wanted you here," she heard him murmured into his crimson comforter. She felt herself smile despite the gravity of the situation. Ginny moved closer to him, her hand finding a place on his back.  
  
"Talk to me."  
  
"I don't know---"" Harry cut off, his breathing ragged. "I don't know---I---I can't go back there this summer, Gin, I just can't."   
  
"What do you want?" His muscles were tense beneath the *comforter*.  
  
He was quite, shivering.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"A home."  
  
"You'll always have a home with me, Harry," Harry rolled over, a shoulder peeking out from under the blanket. He wasn't wearing is glasses and his eyes shone with desperation. "With my family."  
  
"I can't come this summer, though, Dumbledore said. It isn't safe."  
  
"I know," her fingers trailed to his bare shoulder. She could just make out a large blue and purple bruise sneaking out from beneath the blanket. "Merlin . . ." Ginny breathed, pulling the blanket back, revealing more of his chest, more of his bruises. "What happened, Harry?" She demanded.  
  
"Training," Harry said simply, not wanting to hide anything from her anymore, his emerald orbs falling to her fingers, a *stark* white against his growing tan and dark, sickly, bruises.  
  
"You're too hard on yourself," She said, pulling the blanket back further, revealing more bruises, more scrapes, scabs, and scars. Harry shivered, goose bumps running rampant over his skin. Ginny moved closer to him. "You're not responsible for everything, Harry."  
  
"Yeah, just the entire wizarding world."  
  
"No," Ginny said sternly. "Just yourself." She slid her arm around his back, lying down alongside him. "Your problem is that you care too much about humanity," she forced a quiet laugh.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means that the fate of the wizarding world doesn't rest wholly on your shoulders---"  
  
"But it does!"  
  
"I know that, Harry, but you can only do the best you can. But make sure you remember that I'll always fight at your side." Harry turned to look straight into her chocolate eyes, knowing, in all truth, that she would. "Always."  
  
"Harry could feel his blood pounding in his ears, his heart *smashing* a tattoo against his ribcage. Ginny's delicate fingers caressed his cheek, feeling sharp bristles beneath her fingertips.  
  
Harry slowly closed the distance between them, catching her mouth careful with his own.  
  
---  
  
tbc 


	46. Chapter 46: Losing Bill

Xenith  
  
"Error, accident, and chaos are persistent  
  
principles of the universe."  
  
~~~Dune  
  
Chapter Forty-six  
  
Bill took a deep breath . . . and ran . . .  
  
Within seconds the curses guarding the Manor became blaringly obvious. Bill could feel the dark magic flowing around him. Slamming against the shields he'd constructed around himself and Palmer. The shields would only last forty-five seconds under the barrage of curses, after that they were next to defenseless.  
  
Bill pounded across the grass, the distance between himself and the Manor growing smaller by every precious second. Three feet from the back entrance to the kitchen's a slight shimmer a foot above the ground told Bill that there was a small tear in the shields guarding the house. Bill dove into the shimmer, skidding into a kitchen full of house elves. Not the stealth entrance he had planned. Palmer crashed in beside him.  
  
The kitchen was immediately filled with noise as the house elves panicked.  
  
"Imoboulius!" Bill shouted, casting a freezing charm over the creatures.  
  
Their informant had instructed them to extinguish the kitchen fire, lift the grate beneath and slide down the ash duct to the dungeons concealed beneath the Manor.  
  
Bill cut through the frozen elves to the fireplace, cooling the fire as he went. The two wizards hefted the massive grate, a cloud of ash encompassing them. Palmer disappeared into the shaft, Bill close behind, sliding the grate back into place. Bill held his breath as he climbed down the shaft, coming to a sudden halt next to Palmer. The two peered out of a second fireplace, catching sight of a set of robes sweeping out of the office room they found themselves in (there was a desk and bookshelf against one of the walls at least). They wanted a movement before dashing from the fireplace and out of the door. Bill and Palmer found themselves in an empty, low ceilinged, stone corridor, large wooden doors lining the walls.  
  
There were footsteps sounding from the end of the corridor, moving closer by the second. Bill and Palmer ducked around the corridor. There was a jingle of keys. It took only half-a-second for Bill to make up his mind.  
  
Bill exploded into the corridor curses flying, praying that the suddenness of the attack would throw the Death Eater off balance. He did. The wizard fell. Bill snatched the keys from the unconscious body, tossing them to Palmer as he began searching through the barred windows on the dungeon doors for his brothers and any other faces he may recognize. //Where's the rest of this team!?// Bill thought furiously, racing from window to window.   
  
Every single cage was empty.  
  
Bill reached the end of the corridor having found no-one. The same thought ran through booth wizards minds at the same time. It was a trap. Bill and Palmer shared the smallest of glances before running back towards the office.  
  
They never stood a chance.  
  
---  
  
tbc 


	47. Chapter 47: Time to fight

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-seven  
  
Harry was waiting in the Headmaster's office when Professor Dumbledore walked in.  
  
"I won't go back," Harry said from the table he was perched on in a back corner of the shadow filled office. "You can't make me."  
  
"I had thoughgt that I would be seeing you soon, Harry," Dumblledore said, seating himself quietly behind his desk. "And I know. You may stay here if you wish."  
  
"What? How come this option was never offeed to me before?" Harry demanded quietly, fury dripping from his voice.  
  
"Before, Privet Drive was the safest place for you, it no longer is."  
  
"So, I'm homeless then? I want to stay here."  
  
"All right, severl students do spend their summer's here," Dumbledore said, folding his long fingers in his lap. "In fact, Mister Higgs has spent every summer here since his parents died."  
  
"When was that?" Harry asked, he was furious with himself for not knowing students were able to spend their summers at Hogwarts.  
  
"His parents were killed when he was nine, he spent two years training under the supporters of Voldemort before he came to me for his first year. But I suppose he shall tell you all of that at another time."  
  
"Where shall I stay?" Harry asked.  
  
"We have apartments, in the staff wing, where some of our students without homes or parents stay. They are set up so there are two bedrooms, with two students a piece, with a small common room in the middle. The flat also contains a kitchen and two toilets. You shall bunk with mister Higgs."  
  
Harry nodded, sliding off of the table and out of the shadows. He appeared completely exhausted. Dark shadows lurked beneath his ever-sad eyes, his skin, unnaturally incandescent. But as Dumbledore watched him retreat from his office, the boy stood strong, shoulders broad, stride confident, head held high, much like his father had done after receiving the news that his family was being targeted. Harry James Potter was a completely different person from the fourteen year-old who had entered his school at the beginning of the year.   
  
He'd do fine.  
  
Even without him. Harry'd survive.  
  
---  
  
"Why aren't you packed yet?" Hermione asked tentatively from the doorway of the fifth year boys dormitory.  
  
Harry shrugged, not looking up from the book he had open, and wasn't reading in his lap.  
  
"Look at me, Harry," Hermione continued softly. He complied. Harry felt his heart soften as his eyes fell on her. She was beautiful. Soft coffee coloured curls falling more that half-way down her back with large sad eyes almost as dark as her school robes. She seemed small and vulnerable standing alone in the doorway. //God, Ron should be here.// Harry thought desolately. //She needs him.// "Why aren't you packed?" She asked again.  
  
"I'm not going to the Dursley's this summer. I've just sent them an owl about it," he replied.   
  
"You're staying here then?" She took a step into the room, moving carefully around the already packed trunks in then middle of the room.  
  
  
  
"Yes." Why were they speaking to one another like they never went before? //Why is this so uncomfortable?//  
  
Hermione nodded, stopping at the end of his bed. "I'll write you," she ventured. //Harry, say something.// Hermione inwardly begged.  
  
"Okay," Harry threw the book into his trunk. Hermione jumped, tear ran down her cheek. "Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked moving to her.  
  
She shook her head, wiping the tears away.  
  
"Hermione," Harry touched her chin, tipping her face up to his. Her eyes locked with his.  
  
"Tell me he's not gone," Hermione said softly. "Tell me he'll come back."  
  
"Harry didn't know what to say, he needed someone to tell him that just as badly as she did.  
  
Harry pulled Hermione into his arms, holding her as close as he possibly could while she wept. His eyes stayed dry, however. He was done crying. It was time for him to grow up. To be a man.   
  
It was time to fight.  
  
--  
  
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-  
  
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-  
  
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´* 


	48. Chapter 48: For Ron

Xenith  
  
Chapter Forty-eight  
  
Harry had all of his things moved into his summer lodgings with only minimal mishaps on the part of Dobby the house elf. His new bed was to the right side of a cozy, smaller version, of his normal dormitory. The four-poster against the opposite wall, presumably belonging to Terence, was pristine and untouched; only the large black trunk at the end of the bed giving any hint that the wizard had been there.  
  
The end of the year feast was due to start any minute now and he was still only half dressed. He didn't want to go. Didn't want to face the school. He knew, without the shadow of a doubt that Dumbledore would be mentioning Ron and Fred in his closing speech, and therefore, by association drawing attention to Harry. And Harry hated attention.  
  
"Hey," Harry turned to the voice at his door. It was Ginny. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Almost," he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Are you?"  
  
"No," she watched as Harry finished getting dressed. "So I won't see you all summer then?"  
  
"No, I don't think so," he followed her out into his new common room and into the outside corridor. She nodded, her hand creeping into his as they walked.  
  
They continued towards the Great Hall in silence for several minutes before Ginny finally said. "I'll miss you, Harry."  
  
Harry stopped and turned to look her in the eyes. "I'll miss you too Gin." He ran his fingers along her freckled cheek, tucking a stray ginger lock behind her ear. A look of terrified desperation ran through her eyes before she flung her arms around Harry's neck, kissing him with all the passion and fear of the future her small frame possessed.  
  
Harry didn't want to let go, wanted to hang in that moment with her for all of eternity.  
  
They broke apart, hearts racing, breath quick.  
  
By the time they made it to the Great Hall the food was just being cleared and the hall was quieting in preparation for Professor Dumbledore's closing speech.  
  
Harry slid into an empty spot beside Hermione; he was just about to budge over to make room for Ginny but she had moved to the end of the table before he could say anything.  
  
Dumbledore stood at the head table, the already somber hall quieting immediately.  
  
Their Headmaster had changed quite drastically over the past year, his eyes no longer held their sparkle, his face had grown grim, his body had lost its youth-filled bounce, he was quiet . . . old.  
  
Harry gave a half-audible sigh. //This can't be good.//   
  
"Several of our number, strong and brave students,"  Hermione's mall, trembling hand found Harry's beneath the tabletop. "Are missing tonight. Three, taken-from this school, eight abducted from Hogsmeade. Family, friends, and lovers have been taken from, murdered in, their homes, their places of work. I know not what to say." The silence that followed was maddening. Dumbledore ran a frail hand over his face. Professor McGonagall touched his arm encouragingly, nodding her head slightly. "Today, tonight," he rose his goblet. "We honour them. The brave children who have given their lives for the side of good." Harry chanced a sideways glance at Hermione. Her eyes were red, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. "Tonight, we raise our glasses to the students missing from our hallways. For Dean, Dennis, Lauren, Sally-Anne, Fred, Ron, Grahm, Templeton, Cho, Stewart, and Lisa. Tonight we honour our friends and our families." Dumbledore returned to his seat leaving the school in strangled silence.  
  
Hermione wasn't the only one weeping. Harry wrapped his arm around her, letting Hermione burry her face in his shoulder as his eyes moved down the seated Gryffindors. Half-way down the table George was wiping furiously at his eyes before smashing his fist into the table, causing his goblet to topple over. Lee offered none of his usual cheery words of comfort. His elbow was propped on the table (oblivious to the pumpkin juice soaking his robes) and his forehead pressed into his hand. Ginny wasn't any better, although she seemed to be past tears and past anger---past any sort of physical emotion. She was seated at the very end of the Gryffindor table by herself, still as a statue and paler than the Bloody Baron.  
  
A raking sob tore through Hermione, shaking Harry back to her. "Shush," he offered half-heartedly, wrapping his other arm around his best friend and burring his head in her mass of curls---needing to hang on to someone just as much as she did. "He's fine. They're all fine." Another titanic sob was her only reply. "We'll all be fine." He *silently prayed that they would be. They had to be---needed to be. For Ron. He'd be strong.  
  
For Ron.  
  
---  
  
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-  
  
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))  
  
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- the end -:¦:-  
  
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*  
  
Book six: Losing Hope Coming soon!   
  
Here's a little taste of what's to come:  
  
"How many times do I have to say NO?" Fred and Ron heard an indignant voice say as it passed their dungeon door.  
  
"Fred---doesn't that voice sound familiar?"  
  
"Yeah . . . let me listen." His heart began to pound painfully in his chest.  
  
"You're a member of their Order!" The Death Eater bellowed at the eighteen year-old wizard he had chained to the wall. "Tell me."  
  
"No." The first voice growled.  
  
"Is that---"   
  
"It can't be---" The two Weasley's said at the same time completely dumbfounded.  
  
"Lee!" Both boys leapt from their spots in the corners of the prison and ran for the dungeon door.   
  
There was a massive grunt as the Death Eater hit the young wizard in the chest.  
  
"Fred?" he coughed out. "Ron?"  
  
"Don't speak to the other prisoners!" The Death Eater threw his wand arm behind him. The curse flew through the tiny window in the door, smashing the glass to bits and knocking Ron and Fred to the back of the dungeon. "Now," the cloaked figure rounded on Lee. "You will tell me now and live just a bit longer, or you can make me drag the information out of you and die much sooner. It's your choice."  
  
"And what is it, EXACTly, that you want to know?" he threw a brave, bruised, grin at the man.  
  
"Lee!" Fred was fighting the conflicting emotions that were running through his head. Lee couldn't say anything. Not a word. But it was Lee. LEE. His best friend. He couldn't die . . . not like this.  
  
"Don't be smart with me boy. Tell me who you are working with. Who else is in that bloody Order!"  
  
"I am afraid I am not privy to such confidential information."  
  
"Don't lie! You were on your way to someone."  
  
"I was on a school trip to Hogsmeade!" Lee interrupted.  
  
"You're out of school! Who were you supposed to contact?"  
  
"A mammal." Lee snarled through a barely controlled smirk.  
  
"Demolishio!" There was a terrible crack and a strangled cry as Lee's forearm snapped. "Who was it?!"  
  
"Don't Lee!" Ron bellowed, leaping at the door again. "Lee you can't say anything!" He banged his fists against the thick wood.  
  
"I know you git," he replied through clenched teeth.  
  
"Who?" The Death Eater repeated venomously.  
  
"I'll die first." Lee spat.  
  
"That can be arranged."   
  
"Do something Fred." Ron hissed, turning on his brother.  
  
A/N: so everyone, I finally finished it! Keep an eye out for the next installment of my little trilogy here . . . 'Losing Hope' by me! Xenith. I already have it started, I promise!!!  
  
Please review! 


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